Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy
by InsaneScriptist
Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic. Slow build.
1. Chapter 1

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the lovely Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Meeting<strong>

Having briefings, meetings, discussions with the Sawada brat always put Xanxus in a foul mood. The subject didn't matter to him but when they met in the Vongola Estate, in that damn fucking office, it always made his fury spike ever higher. The only things that would cool it enough to focus on other things were blood, alcohol, steak and violence; not necessarily in order. Time didn't do such, as Xanxus had a damn fine memory and his ability to hold a grudge was key to using his flames of wrath.

Someone had clued the inferior copy of the Primo in on that, so in meetings that he couldn't send the shark-trash to started to be held out of office, and off the estate if possible when they actually needed to meet and have Xanxus keep a cool head. Xanxus, could be very rational in his wrath but made a point of being very hard to deal with regardless. Some might have called it petty, but never where Xanxus could hear them.

This lead to a number of odd meeting sites, for meetings that were important enough for the Vongola's Neo-Primo to have in person with the Commander of the Varia and yet not important enough for an actual summons to the Vongola Estate and that damn office.

Sites like the R&D facility of the Vongola. After the meeting where both discussed things, their respective silver-haired right-hands were then sent off to relay orders.

**Research**

Xanxus didn't care much for the geeks who researched things for the Vongola. He knew they were important. The Varia had a number of reasons to thank the researcher's efforts, from medicinal advances to new toys.

Still, the Varia were assassins and they couldn't really respect those who couldn't fight or kill, no matter if they synthesized new poisons, antidotes and created really shiny and wonderful weapons.

**Development**

Research, had its benefits but was often tedious and not for those without genius-level intellect at minimum. Development however was fun, at least for Xanxus. Development meant production designs and testing and Xanxus was quite willing to test new weapons, and he had subordinates who were keen to test new poisons on unsuspecting others. Consequently, he was well-known to those working on the D-side of R&D.

He was also very feared, which Xanxus saw as proof of their weakness. They gave him good weapons to test, he had fun and he was happy. If they gave him shit weapons to test, he would be unhappy and they knew it, which gave them plenty of motivation to improve and keep up the good work.

**Guns**

Xanxus knew guns. He built them himself. Not just his custom guns, but a lot of others. The number and variety of weapon specs in his head was even higher than that of most gun-fanatics. Make, model, year, nationality and type didn't matter. Xanxus had made everything from the modern 9mm to single-action revolvers to RPGs to some of the first guns ever made before bullets were the standard ammo, guns which shot lead balls from smoking powder.

He knew how to make every little part to size from scratch and down to every last perfect detail. From clips to bullets to barrels to triggers and all the finicky little details. He also knew how to tweak them and customize them With Dying Will flame technology, as shown by his own preferred pair. That was something only Verde and a few of Development's eggheads could match and proof that he wasn't the brutal thug a lot of other Mafiosi thought he was.

It was a little known fact that the Varia mostly used the guns that Xanxus made for them, both as a symbol of pride and the fact that Xanxus made them work for the Varia in ways that weapon manufactures and random mafioso guns simply didn't or couldn't. Silent, powerful and durable with range accuracy like a rifle's.

As a whole, the Varia were spoiled when it came to guns and they knew it. They only used other guns to make sure that their aim with inferior weapons didn't deteriorate because they were spoiled.

**Unexpected**

There were a few rules in the R&D that had to be observed, due to all the odd stuff being messed about with there, especially once the Bovino kid started working in there with a few other prominent scientists. The Vongola's Lighting Guardian might have been a total brat but he was a weapon-smart brat for all he had been part of the Vongola since he was five. Whatever the Bovino famiglia did to get weapon use and creation hammered into the cow-brat worked.

Unfortunately Xanxus knocking over some wimpy gofer carrying an open box of altered 10-year bazooka ammo was not unexpected and really shouldn't have happened because moving that stuff around like that was one of the big no-nos. Being stuck in an alternate future was not something any of the 10th Generation wanted to repeat. The grunt landed hard and the contents of the box went flying, detonating in mostly harmless colored smoke against the walls and ceiling. Xanxus didn't bother to dodge knowing that the bazooka's ammo was unable to harm people beyond temporally displacing them.

What was unexpected was that an alternate Xanxus didn't appear and the original Xanxus didn't reappear after five minutes.

"VOOI! Boss!" The long-haired swordsman yelled, as he reached the hallway after being informed that there was an issue concerning his boss. Giving his best serial killer smile, Squalo Superbi held the trembling gofer against the wall, as he began an interrogation.

Squalo might technically be the Rain Officer of the Varia but he did a damn fucking good impersonation of a Storm when he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the enchanting Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>First<strong>

Xanxus was more than a bit surprised to end up under water. What the fuck was his other self doing down here?

Nearly drowning in getting to the surface with the salt stinging his eyes -nice to know he was in an ocean- didn't improve his mood. This was going to wreck his clothing and his guns as it was and he had no damn clue where or when he was at. Just a lot of blue salt water and blue sky and sparkling sun.

Keeping his head above water, he estimated the time he had been here and how much longer he'd have to wait before getting sent back. Being an assassin he had to have an accurate sense of time as some clients were picky about the timing of the death or wanted to make a statement and so needed someone to die at a particular time and no sooner or later.

Seven minutes later, Xanxus was working on survival because the ammo for that damned bazooka was fucked up and he was stranded until the damn moron scientists figured out what happened and either returned him or sent someone after him.

**Ocean**

Waterways and assassins were historically linked. Travel by water was faster and preferred in getting away from possible pursuers until modern technology made boats obsolete. Not that most of the Varia had any issues disappearing or throwing off any persistent bastard by hook or by crook. Flames were not often used by the Varia much on missions, beyond Mist for concealment.

Still, the Varia were the elite of the elite assassins so they had so much training that even their lowest member was above a thousand in all the rankings that the little rating-scum made. Survival exercises from hell, historical training side by side with teaching how to hack electronic and more complex computerized systems and constantly striving to improve and better themselves, despite their clearly superior Varia Quality, made sure they _stayed_ elite.

Oceanic survival was something Xanxus knew how to deal with both with and without flames. There were benefits to being a sky so long as he could keep his focus and he could do that for a week easy.

Harmonizing his Sky Flames to produce Mist Flames produced him a simple and small wooden boat with sail. He didn't know where or when he was so modern boats were out of the question. This got him out of the salt water that was intent on dehydrating him, and the sail blocked the worst of the sun. Now he just had to maintain the constructed illusion until he got to land or was brought back. Real Illusions were hard to do, but possible with practice, despite how terribly inefficient it usually was especially after Verde invented the equipment to transform them into reality despite the fact they would decay over the day.

He didn't have such equipment on him, so he was going to have to do it the hard way. This fucking sucks.

**Water**

Water was one of the harder things to acquire. Fresh water that is. It was a survival exercise that Xanxus both hated and loved because it was so fucking difficult to do.

He had to keep his constructed boat stable so his focus was split beyond reasonable measure. He also had to keep the supplies he was using in reality as they were also created by Mist Flame. He then had to distill the sea water without losing his temper, because Wrath Flames would destroy all his hard work.

He first used this to wash all the excess salt off of him and his hair ornaments. Then he got the worst of it out of his clothing. No need to dehydrate himself like an idiot by not doing that.

Hygiene matters taken care of, and water obtained, he turned his attention to cleaning his weapons. He at least had the supplies on him to do that, and doing it was meditative for him to do it, the ritual of it was so ingrained.

One his weapons were clean, the focused calm he had reached allowed him to materialize a fishing rod and keep it until he hooked something, two hours later.

**Food**

Four days later and Xanxus was fucking tired of fish. He was still eating it because he needed the energy. Using flames constantly for the past few days had left him cranky and tired, beyond the emotional tiredness that had set in when he realized that the night sky was drastically different to anything he'd ever seen before. Xanxus wasn't big on astronomy but his mother had been, so he knew about it and then learned more when he realized that it was really helpful to be able to navigate at night when moving off-grid.

Still, he was able to guess what sort of fish was edible and knew how to use his own flames to cook it. Xanxus might be Head of the Varia and all that it implied but he was not by any stretch of the imagination a chef. He also knew that he needed more nutrients than what the fish was giving him. He wasn't immediately worried about scurvy but he knew that it existed and was a result of a lack of vitamin C, which was found in fresh greens and citrus fruits. He was more worried about the crash that would occur after he got to land and could actually rest, or impending psychosis from lack of sleep if he didn't find land, as if he wasn't crazy and mentally strained enough already. He was looking for land, planning actions and eventual retribution on those scientists to keep his mind from preying on itself already. The vengeance schemes were getting slightly impractical and rather elaborate, but it kept him going.

Still, how long did it take those fucking scientists to find him? Stranded in an alternate dimension or not, Xanxus was going to shoot them when he got back. Non-fatally, so he could do it again a few dozen times.

**Storm**

Xanxus knew he had shitty luck. He had been keeping his fucking ship together for a week straight. He wasn't an actual mist-user so he couldn't sleep without the ship disappearing on him and soaking him, which would set him back further in terms of flame energy-costs. So he hadn't slept at all since materializing here, wherever 'here' was. He had persisted with measured discipline over the past week. He was economical and conservative after his first and only extravagance in cleaning himself, his clothing and weapons. The rest of his water was for drinking purposes only. He could deal with his own stink, as he had smelt worse in the slums and as an assassin.

Spying the threatening clouds nearby, he cursed and stored his guns not in their holsters but in his coat. The Varia uniform was created to be very functional in all environments and some pockets were water-proof and everything was flame and impact resistant. He kept his knives and other tools where they were as they were unlikely to be lost or ruined with exposure to salt-water and the various other shit that was in the ocean.

Two hours later, Xanxus had discovered that his fragile craft was hard, but brittle. The storm had tried to turn his little craft over numerous times, flood it and it was pissing Xanxus off when he couldn't afford to be angry unless he wanted to actually drown as the boat would disappear from under him in a flash of Mist Flame.

Then his ship collided with something in the water and Xanxus could feel it break more than he could hear it over the raging ocean.

This he felt and registered a hit to the head before he went down to his knees as his vision and focus waver. He tried to use his rage to keep conscious but felt his boots hit rioting water. Flailing his arms, he grabbed something and held onto it with a dead man's grip even as he lost consciousness. If he wasn't already in Hell, he preferred not to end up there just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the charming Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Wake<strong>

Xanxus felt a level of exhaustion that said he should be taking it easy for a week when he woke. Still, Xanxus had fine instincts that would wake him as needed, so why the fuck was he up and wet and crusty?

Slowly opening his eyes only to be rewarded by daylight stabbing his retinas, he squinted at his surroundings. He was holding onto a piece of drifting whatever-the-hell-it-was-floating-thing. Xanxus slowly flexed his hands and arms only to discover that having his muscles locked for however long left his arms feeling weak and cramping. The briny smell of everything around him informed him that he had survived the storm, even if his ship hadn't.

Turning his head one way, he saw nothing but blue sky and blue sea. Turning it as far as he could the other and he saw more blue sea and blue sky.

Then he heard it.

Birds squawking. Even squinting his eyes could make out the species. Seagulls lived here at least, so he had to be getting closer to an island right?

He just had to follow the birds.

**Effort**

Following the birds was a nice sentiment but those fuckers could fly fucking faster than he could ever swim. Sailing on a mist-craft wasn't possible at the moment considering how flame-deprived he felt. No need to risk killing himself like that. It would be a stupid and fucking embarrassing way to go.

Still, the birds gave him a direction to go and even with the lack of landmarks to denote the way he was heading he was going to follow. It was at least a better idea than drifting since the birds had to come from somewhere.

**Rest**

Xanxus had discovered that the floating-thing he had been gripping was likely part of a mast based on size and shape. It wasn't much but it was large enough to support his weight without sinking when he crawled all the way on it. This time he didn't bother too much with cleaning up. He just wanted drinking water and food. Then he'd get some sleep, cat-napping only until he was safe enough to crash.

Xanxus repeated this pattern for the next few days, occasionally seeing more of those damn birds and with the sun as his only compass during the day, though he had no clue which hemisphere he was in so couldn't tell if high noon was South or North. Hell, he didn't even know if the sun here rose in the East and set in the West. At least at night he had the stars for direction, so he wasn't too lost even if he had no idea where he was going.

He'd find out when he got there.

**Cliff**

He had thought that his luck had been turning. He had spotted land in the distance and fought past the current trying to drag him away from his goal. Instead it was only fate fucking with him again. It was land, but it was also a damn cliff.

That goal might have been a damn cliff and was possibly going to kill him if the ocean decided to play 'smash unlucky bastard on cliff' but it was closer than the beach or the port that had the blindingly white ship with the anchor like symbol on the sail. Xanxus was avoiding authority out of both habit and discretion. Plus there would be questions if he was caught and he wasn't in the mood to be caught, much less by such unknowns.

That big of a ship and the symbol screamed 'organization' and as the town wasn't in flames and such, Xanxus could only conclude that they were enforcers for a power; allegiance and alignment could be determined later when his brain was firing on all cylinders again and he had enough strength to get himself out of any possible trouble.

**Safety**

Climbing the cliff-face was not one of his better ideas. He did however make it up pretty quick because he wasn't going to bother wasting time trying to find handholds when he could make his own with a little bit of flame. It was going to make his energy crash so much worse and nearly had him blacking out from sheer exhaustion. When he reached the top but he kept on moving even when he wanted to fall face-down and sleep for a fucking month. He'd sleep later but he had to secure the area first.

He didn't discover much, a field of wildflowers, trees and more forest shit. There wasn't even a damn stream nearby which was both good and bad. Good as less animals would be around to possibly eat him and bad as there would be less animals to eat once he woke up. The only trails he found were animal ones, which proved that they lived on the island like the port proved that people did, even if they didn't visit this part of the island often.

Deciding that this was as safe as he was going to get, he looked at the trees because sleeping on the ground was asking for trouble but found that none of the nearby trees were suitable. Nor were the trees further out.

Giving up on sleeping in a tree as a bad job, he found one that he could put his back against, checked to make sure that his knives were easily accessible and hidden then he sat down and crashed hard.


	4. Chapter 4

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the ever-patient Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Rouse<strong>

Xanxus found himself coming to consciousness in what he knew from previous experience of exhausted sleep after strenuous missions would not be an interlude that kept him awake for more than a few seconds. Plus he was comfy and warm.

Immediately knowing something was wrong, wrong, _wrong,_ Xanxus bolted into awareness. He felt his body's protest and desire to sleep and recover more but he needed to know where he was and how he got here. More importantly, where were his weapons and why the hell hadn't he woke up while being transported wherever and changed? He wanted his clothes, his weapons, information and a drink.

The room he was in was small but roomy. More like a sea-side cottage than a proper house. There wasn't a lot of personal things in the room and while the room wasn't bare, there wasn't a lot there either. It looked like a guest room, as it had slightly more personal touches than a hotel room, even an upmarket one.

Spotting a cupboard, he opened it to find a spare sheets, blankets and his clothes, which had been washed. The majority of his weapons weren't in his clothing -some of the smaller ones weren't meant to be noticed, even when washed as they were built into his actual uniform- but the rest were in one of the drawers. He changed quickly back into his uniform and slid on his boots that were sitting at the end of the bed, also cleaned.

If he was going to have to run or fight he'd rather be prepared.

**Examine**

Despite the boots being heavy on protesting feet, Xanxus walked with an assassin's tread. Slow, steady and above all silent. He examined each room, searching and drawing conclusions without leaving a sign that he had been there at all.

The house was currently empty but had a woman living in it. There once was a man, who was about Xanxus' height but larger in build, but he hadn't been in residence for a while, so he likely worked on a ship or at least away for large periods of time at some other part of the world. There were no kids or sign of them so either the woman was young enough to not have any or the kids had moved out so thoroughly there was no trace of them. He would bet on a younger woman, with wavy strawberry-blond hair and a fondness for column styled dresses if her wardrobe and dressing-table were anything to go by. The island likely stayed warm all year round judging by the lack of coats and more winter-warm clothing. Examining the kitchen told him that there was electricity for the fridge and stove, but there was a lack of a radio or television or even a phone. That was an odd contrast that would require more thought later.

Realizing he lacked the energy to do a more thorough sweep of the property outside beyond looking through the windows, he returned to his room, took off his uniform in exchange for what she had dressed him in. That meant she was either unusually strong or had help as Xanxus was not a little runt like the Sawada brat. That this realization took so long showed how much exhaustion had dulled his edge, even with adrenaline perking him up temporarily. Most of his weapons were returned to the drawer where they had so thoughtfully been left, arranged just like he remembered them being when he first found them.

A few weapons taken from his uniform, Xanxus secreted around his sleeping space and allowed his tired body to go back to sleep. He'd wake up again soon enough.

**Breakfast**

Xanxus woke to the smell of someone cooking. After nearly two weeks of eating only unseasoned badly prepared fish Xanxus was ready for real food. It may not be steak, but he'd take anything over his own cooking, except for Mammon's attempts at it.

Palming his knives and hiding them on his person in a way to hide them easily from his good Samaritan host, he allowed the scent of food to drag his suddenly more amenable body towards the kitchen. Reaching the table, Xanxus stealthily stole a chair to use. Flame-exhaustion or not, Xanxus was an assassin and he had a certain standard to uphold.

His host only noticed he was there when she turned around. Thankfully she didn't drop anything or break out into hysterics. Just introduced herself and fussed over him in an under-stated way that didn't grate on his nerves like Lussuria's did.

**Language**

She spoke Japanese of all things. Japanese. Not exactly what he was expecting but he didn't know what he really was expecting in the first place. Maybe some new language?

Breakfast conversation was light. Names were exchanged, which proved that the lady, one Portgas D. Rouge followed Japanese naming conventions when her name wasn't the least bit Japanese, she looked nothing like one and had no reason like being in the mafia to learn the language.

Xanxus knew that since he was in a different world the culture would differ, but how many more illogical similarities would there be?

The food wasn't Japanese in the least, being closer to what he remembered of French and Carribean food, but it was still a lot better than his own attempts at cooking on missions. As he didn't have Vongola resources here, he was going to have to learn that and everything else about this world. Hell, he was going to have to be polite as it was since he was in no position to demand anything. Being too difficult might get him thrown out and being ignorant could lead to unpleasant ends when he wasn't sure if this dimension had the technology for things he needed; information, bullets, alcohol, and food. Being 'nice' at least let him get some information, food and a place to rest. The last two were particularly valuable at the moment since he was exhausted and weak in ways he hated.

There wasn't a word in any language that he knew of that would accurately summarize how much that angered him. Those scientists were so going to wish they were dead for stranding him here.

**Hospitality**

Xanxus despite all appearances was not an ungrateful bastard. He was Head of the Varia, which made things like showing gratitude a weakness when he was in charge of an insane asylum full of killers, no matter how much Squalo liked to play 'last sane man.' That Squalo was believed showed that he was constantly having to deal with fucking delusional idiots. Squalo knew first hand the amount of effort it took to keep the Varia in check and being thought of as crazy had its own benefits. Actually it wasn't even Xanxus' fault that he and the others were ungrateful bastards. Xanxus' ingratitude and the rest of the Varia's ingrained refusal to thank anyone for anything was a response to Mammon who would charge you for every thank-you uttered in the Acrobaleno's direction. Despite Mammon spending the money for an upgrade of their Varia rings, Mammon's habits hadn't changed much. What the former Acrobaleno was saving for now was unknown but probably useful for his squad.

The more honorable members of the Varia would at least acknowledge unspoken gratitude debts to be paid off later in various ways; offers of sparring, new toys, taking over paperwork for an hour because planning someone's death took time as did reporting it afterwards, especially if things deviated from the plan, or offering to fetch food or partnering up for a later mission.

As Xanxus was planning on staying here for a while, he was going to be nice and polite to the woman so she was less likely to kick him out. From what the windows told him, he was a bit of ways out of town and he could be polite if he wanted, as the Ninth's endless tutors had taught him how. He had learned it after all, even if he didn't use it. Being difficult to deal with had its benefits when dealing with idiots or the insane, but not here. Being difficult would only be trouble, especially now when he was this weak.

He wished he could be lazy and milk his wreck-status for the next week but honestly there was a lot he didn't know that would look suspicious and that could only be fixed by research, meaning stake-outs and talking and reading if he could read this world's language. He hadn't found any books when he looked earlier, so his host could be illiterate or eccentric enough to keep books in odd places. Sure he could ask Rouge -apparently the hierarchy of familiarity in the Japanese language was ignored here, but one person was not enough evidence for conclusions- but there was no need to make his ignorance apparent to his host unless he really had no other options.

Xanxus did discover that Rouge was stronger than she looked as she marched him back to his room. Xanxus wasn't sure how but she forced him with good cheer and sheer caring to go back to bed and rest without actually offending him. Lussuria would have been shot at and Squalo would have had something tossed at him at least for the same thing.

His treacherous body did as she ordered. He only grumbled a bit before succumbing to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the wonderful Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Respite<strong>

Despite Xanxus' intentions of going out into town on both the following two days, he let himself be manhandled back into bed to rest. He did it with ill grace, but it made Rouge happy, as did his polite manners, despite his grumbling and evident reluctance. He wasn't in top form yet, but he was well enough that he wasn't particularly worried about having to fight. He was even well enough that he could call out Bester if it came to it and his Wrath Flames were always an option as he had plenty of reasons to rage. The scientists, being stuck here, almost drowning, two weeks of eating badly-cooked fish, almost drowning again...

Besides, he was far more practiced than anyone not part of the Varia had ever realized at avoiding the notice of others, even without using any kind of flames. Scouting out the town and learning about where he was would be what he would rather be doing, but his host was keen on him not over exerting himself. She was clearly civilian in her incomprehension of how much energy was actually necessary, compared to how much was comfortable or desirable.

So his scouting mission was on hold, which made him a very poor conversationalist as he knew nothing about this world. She didn't seem to mind his silence very much though. He had at least managed to patrol the premises and explore the surrounding terrain some more. He'd do a more thorough exploration later, after he had found some important things out like who was running this region and what kind of political system was in place.

**Guest**

Playing guest to someone was not a familiar thing for Xanxus -he'd never visited anybody for anything other than business purposes in his life- especially since he was well out of his comfort zone. Most of his interactions with the fairer sex could be labelled to fall into three broad categories: targets, servants and subordinates. He'd not really had a chance to date before being put on ice nor had he really wanted to, and afterwards he'd been too busy trying to make sure the inferior Primo copy and his would-be guardians didn't run the Family into the ground by accident, so he didn't really have any romantic experience to speak of either. Not that he was a virgin, but there was a difference between dating a lady with the intent of courtship, mafia-raised or not and seducing a target or stranger. The last two were needs so 'romance' wasn't there; either for the mission or a physical need.

The Varia were elite assassins, so the gender of prospective targets didn't matter because by the time most had been selected to join the Varia they had already killed all sorts and would only do more of that once they joined. Some of the lower-ranked but still Varia scum had remarked that killing women was in bad taste. Xanxus privately agreed despite being capable of killing them as easily or more easily than any male target. Women were usually softer and less paranoid, except for the occasional truly-bad bitch that manipulated low-ranked famiglias into warfare with each other and decent hitman skills.

Servants was self-explanatory, and while Xanxus refrained from killing those who worked for him in that capacity, he had injured them before. Good help was hard to find, especially when they had to work in a building full of assassins and mafiosi. The Varia had Varia Quality servants, so they were practically invisible and very efficient in their duties, so much so that things appeared to be done by magic. Or as the Sawada brat's Rain Guardian had blithely put it, 'ninja housekeeping staff.' Which was not entirely wrong, as the servants did know how to safely handle weaponry and were trained to defend the building if necessary.

Most of the Varia was made up of men, with the occasional woman. Xanxus didn't give a damn about the gender of his subordinates because all gender did when killing people was give the killer in question a different set of options. However the Varia had exceedingly high standards in all areas and while female assassins had higher success rates in general, they tended to be more specialized than those whom the Varia looked for. The six lady assassins the Varia currently employed were all ruthless, and well-rounded. They were also in the upper ranks, as all were squad leaders. However there was a lot of pointless bias in the Mafia about a woman's role in their Famiglia which made things doubly difficult if not moreso. Xanxus had not been at all happy when he had finally promoted someone to the position of the Cloud Officer only to lose her when her father had cut a deal and married her off a month later for an alliance. If nothing else, her husband was a brave man; she hadn't been at all happy either.

This situation wasn't not one of those and Xanxus couldn't even treat Rouge like he had hotel staff, which was admittedly a few steps sideways from how he treated his own servants, with less violence and more swearing. The closest equivalent he was familiar with was courting someone for an alliance, but with more awkwardness and fewer shows of power or politics. Xanxus had nothing but his clothes, weapons, knowledge and ability to his name.

Rouge at least had a house and a livelihood.

**Stroll**

He had refused Rouge's offer of escorting him to town as well as her offer of lending him some of the local currency, which immediately entered his list of 'worst named currencies he'd ever heard of.' Mammon's sheer greed was informative in many ways, as was travel to countries that had their own unique currencies.

The port-side of town was very odd, even to his well-traveled eyes. There were many reasons why it felt so alien and his stroll was very informative in a lot of ways that he hadn't expected. The 'whole different universe' thing took some getting used to, as assumptions he hadn't realized he'd even had kept getting blown open.

While the mafia had its fair share of odd-looking people, some of the people he could see walking around looked deformed in ways that made him reflexively think 'bad illusions' or 'experiments.' There was an old lady with large ears and a long wrinkled face that looked very monkey like in all the wrong ways. There were people of all shapes and sizes with inhumanly exaggerated characteristics which made him wonder how many species were actually in this world because those weren't human normal at all. His human normal, which was worthless now that he was in a different dimension, dammit. Obviously, Rouge's similarity to the people he was used to had set up preconceptions that were now getting smashed. While the oddities might have been the result of long-past experiments, they were now fully integrated into the population and considered normal.

They all spoke the same language. Sure he heard slang, dialects and several different accents but there weren't any people having conversations in a language other than Japanese. He heard a few words here and there from other languages but no actual conversations, even in the docks and pubs he had visited invisibly. In the last pub he casually lifted a forgotten newspaper and a bottle of something that looked like whiskey from a drunk who probably wouldn't even notice it was missing.

There was a mention of a World Government, something that had caused Xanxus jump to the top of the nearest rooftop to contemplate with his stolen newspaper and bottle of alcohol. The existence of a World Government was something his mind rebelled against on principle, mostly because he had to wonder how the fuck it fucking worked and how damn corrupt it had to be. The newspaper at least proved that he could read the language here. The articles were written in Japanese, a mix of kanji and katakana with English headlines. He could read it but damn if he knew why they wrote it like that.

The newspaper proved enlightening in a visibly biased way. Some things were useful to learn such as the date -late July and not early May provided the newspaper was current- that he was in South Blue -whatever the fuck that was, but he was guessing he was in the southern hemisphere- and that there was a lot of news about the Pirate King Gold Roger being caught by the Marines. Pictures proved helpful as the symbols for the Marines in the photographs matched the symbol on the ship he had seen before crawling up that cliff. The Marines were in fact, the military force of the World Government. He saw no mention of a battle or anything and that raised his suspicions. Newspapers liked to print about bad things because controversy and disaster sold well and if they weren't bothered about sales they were government mouth-pieces, which did inform him that the World Government wasn't above intelligent tyranny.

There was a lot of work to be done in acclimatizing himself to here, even as temporary as it would hopefully be, because he was not going to mooch off of Rouge. His pride forbade it.

**Rumors**

The few hours of discreetly listening to the gossip informed him about a lot of other things. Information about prices and what was in season to the latest fashions to rumors about various pirates and what the marines were doing or not doing. There were a lot of names he heard mentioned, some local, some more national if South Blue could be considered a nation. Then he heard about East Blue and realized that the Blues were likely regional. He had no idea where the Grand Line and Red Line were but he now knew they existed.

He drank his stolen whiskey as he listened in and investigated. The whiskey was low-class but it was still alcohol and pleasantly familiar as he listened to old biddies gossip and discuss the degeneracy of youth since the pirates of their days had more honor and were less likely to do something like destroy a nation on a whim like the Pirate King had done. If that was true, as the old hags believed it to be, then he was even more suspicious of the lack of reporting on the battle where Gold Roger was purportedly captured. Then they discussed the rumors that the Pirate King had a child in a conversation of whispers and low-tones and all the while ignoring all their own blatant bias about how the boy -as if they couldn't fathom Gold Roger having a girl child- would be a devil child to plague the world.

This last bit was interesting and he returned to the rooftops to think on it as he drank. Either this world was tiny, or Gold Roger was a criminal known the world over and had probably done various pirate-things that got him and his crew in trouble with government types who told edited truths or outright lies to the citizenry. Still the lack of battle confused him because a man that powerful -based on him destroying a nation on a whim- going without a fight said something was wrong about him, since he knew that only death awaited him. Something wasn't right at all.

Being head of the Varia meant he had encountered odd contracts here and there. Some of the oddest were suicide requests and those usually happened because the boss was terminally ill and didn't want to lose their image of strength and so hired the Varia to put them out of their misery. They had also gotten requests for patricide and matricide for the same reason as their kid didn't want to see their parent languish in a sickbed for day after painful day. A special kind of assassin got assigned to those, as they were technically a variety of diplomatic mission. They were just aiming for a specific person, so killing the guards while permissible was not a good thing.

So Gold Roger knew he was dying, that it was probably incurable since the technology around here didn't seem to be as advanced as Xanxus was used to and Gold Roger had wanted to do one more outrageous thing, possibly at his execution. Damn, this was a mess and he still had basic things to do like find a map.

**Map**

Finding a map was easier and harder than expected. Apparently while they had pretty good printing technology based on the newspaper and its pictures, they still hadn't managed to reliably create completely accurate maps. The ones of the Blues were mostly accurate, from what he could tell after investigating a few maps and noting the small differences. It was the Grand Line that hadn't been mapped all that well. Or should he say 'charted' since while investigating maps he had learned more about this ridiculous world, such as that the vast majority of maps were nautical.

Xanxus was busy invisibly watching as his deformed illusion but strangely-believable-for-the-norm-here child talked to the clerk. That the clerk had cooed over the mist-child disturbed him; it was fucking ugly. At least a child could get away with being stupid in a way an adult couldn't. It was giving him a lot of information that was slowly allowing the absurdity of this dimension to make sense, or at least fit together coherently.

The World Government was something that nations joined, similar to NATO or the UN. The nations that joined paid taxes to the World Government and obeyed their laws in return for protection against pirates by way of the Marines. The Marines recruited from everywhere because even prideful poor guttersnipes would join for the food and pay in exchange for their lives when caught in petty crime. The World Government was officially founded by 'twenty kings' nearly eight centuries ago, which had made Xanxus twitch. Knowing Bel meant he knew how kings of other nations got along when they didn't have to -they usually didn't-so there had a reason to join together and stay together for centuries. Then after founding the World Government, the families of these 'twenty kings' became 'Tenryubito.'

Further child-like inquiries proved that the 'Tenryubito' were all-powerful in terms of money and influence, able to summon an Admiral on a whim to protect them. Xanxus got the impression that the Tenryubito were like the pathetic type of mafia boss who tossed their money around to get their way and only survived by having strong protectors and the money to employ them. Xanxus' trigger finger twitched in a way that told him that the world would probably be better off if they were all dead, once social order had a chance to pull itself back together. At least this explained why Japanese was so prevalent, if that was the main language that the World Government used. The slang and insertion of foreign words now made sense. Japanese in this world was a Trade Language, like English was in his home world. Japanese was the language of business and had been for longer than English had back home. English had been such since about the 1800s, but Japanese here had been since likely the founding of the World Government, eight fucking _centuries_ ago. He didn't know much about the 'Void Century' but the fact that it existed implied very nasty things about the genesis of the World Government, the Tenryubito and other things.

Now that he had an idea of what the political hierarchy was like in a sense, he felt safer. The World Government usually didn't interfere with the local rulers that belonged to them because managing all of those nations would be hell, so why should they? After all, a few generations later would have the citizens loyal because they would have forgot what it was like to not be dependent on the World Government. There were likely some powerful nations that didn't join the World Government and others that were too pitiful to bring in or protect due to the amount of piracy and how powerful some pirates were, if Gold Roger was any indication. Occasionally there might be a 'pity project' on a small island country to bolster image, but the marines and World Government would own practically everything and possibly everyone on such islands.

Seeing an actual map of South Blue explained a lot, including the persistent piracy problem. This world was mostly fucking ocean, dotted with islands that were generally rather small. Assuming there was land under the ice at the poles, Xanxus did the mental math to determine that maybe there was a measly five percent of land out of water, which was pathetic. That did not include the Red Line, where the Tenryubito lived, which was a fucking odd super-continent since it did ring its way around the world. Vertically. The Grand Line and the Calm Belts that surrounded it bisected the world horizontally, dividing the world into quadrants that were imaginatively named after compass directions followed by the word Blue. At least he now knew where he was at and could place the stars he saw at night in reference to his location. Learning navigation was a must here, and astro-navigation was very reliable should you have a decent background knowledge.

Piracy in his world was mostly a dead art, as there weren't a lot of areas left that it could work in. Piracy needed several things in order to function properly and a weak local government was one of them, as was having plenty of places to hide when not out sailing the ocean. Back home satellite photography, over a dozen strong national and international fleets and the multinational market had pretty much killed what remained off. Having a basic idea of the technological level here, piracy would probably still be around in a few hundred years but would be dying by then if the World Government stayed in power and endorsed improvements to security and technology.

Xanxus had his deformed mist-child and the clerk hear a woman call him and Xanxus walked out of the navigational supply store.

His mind turning over basic information and plotting to gain more without being noticed, as he tossed his empty whiskey bottle into a bar and strolled back to Rouge's home, newspaper in hand. He could always visit town later, but there was no need to strain himself and exhaust himself finding basic information when he didn't have to.


	6. Chapter 6

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the awesome Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Newspaper<strong>

Rouge was cooking something for the evening meal when Xanxus stopped prowling the property with newspaper and gun in hand. Doing a security sweep and patrol gave him both time to think and peace of mind.

His only conclusion was that this world was going to be his new Hell, as it seemed to be an exercise in absurdity and extremism that didn't even have decent whiskey. Not that anyone would be able to tell he had drunk anything as Xanxus was a professional at his job so mistakes like showing he had been drinking hard alcohol were pathetically easy to cover up.

He refrained from knocking on the door, even after checking externally that no one had entered the residence other than Rouge. Call it paranoia, but it was simply common sense to Xanxus. He then entered Rouge's home, checked all the rooms for possible intruders and only then did he make his footsteps audible. He asked how she had been while he was out, and politely resisted the urge to lean back and put his boots on the table as he read over the newspaper as though it were a binding contract he was expected to sign.

That's when he noticed something he had overlooked on the paper. The year. The fucking year was 1505. As if he needed more proof that he was stranded in a strange dimension, surrounded by alien humanoids.

"Rouge-san," Xanxus said, still being polite, "how current is this newspaper? I lost track of the days before I washed up in your backyard." He flipped it around so she could see the front page, where the date was.

He had not expected the gasp at the headlines. Sharp ears noticed that it was not a startled gasp or a happy gasp. It was a resigned one. The kind that was made when you were given bad news in advance and had put it out of your mind only for it to come back with sharp and bitter guilt.

How interesting. His host knew the Pirate King. Knew that Gold Roger was dying, so the relationship had to be personal.

Fuck his luck.

**Personal**

"You don't seem too happy at the news that the marines have captured such a notorious pirate." He drawled.

"I am, I just don't like the idea of good people getting hurt." Rouge replied, her tone even and then affronted.

She was a decent liar but not a professional one for all that she had talent at it. Good instincts, good practice but not enough experience to lie to him. Xanxus didn't know his father but there was a reason that people thought that Xanxus was Vongola; it was because his own intuition was nearly as good as that Sawada brat's and far better than his Vongola foster siblings ever had. Which was how he'd managed to stay in charge of the Varia despite getting it handed to him when he was sixteen. Assassins could accept a lot of things with ease, but the adjustment period for both him and his eventual underlings was rough and involved a lot of violence.

Xanxus wasn't even looking at her and knew she was lying.

"Liar. You're not happy he's caught at all."

She radiated tension in a tell-tale way. Xanxus still hadn't looked up.

"Once he's dead, things will change. Hopefully for the better." She said with a bitter and hopeful twist to the words.

This she believed in, even if she knew things might not improve. It was a bit too optimistic for him. Nothing ever got better unless people got off their asses and made it better.

**Impersonal**

"I don't care at all about the Pirate King. You could be his lover, the mother of his unborn child and I still wouldn't care about what would happen to him." He stated, to her frozen shock.

The Varia assassin noted, that yes, this really was fucking storybook. His host really was pregnant and with Gold Roger's child; this had to be some twisted karma thing, possibly for the Famiglia members he'd killed while trying to off his old man. He also owed her a debt for shelter and food. A debt that was only going to grow larger the longer he stayed here and adjusted to this dimension. Xanxus estimated that he'd need a few more weeks to become inured to the absurdity and learn the basics of how this dimension worked. There was a lot to cover, from economy to culture and everything in between. At the moment, he knew that there was a July, but he didn't know if there was a June or how long the year was or lots of other minor but important things that he was starting to realize were still up in the air. It wasn't like there was a guide on what to do in an completely foreign dimension. Just because things were similar didn't mean they were the same after all. Assumptions like that could easily be the death of him.

"What I do care about is how it effects you. At the moment, I'm a vagabond with lot of specialized skills that aren't marketable on a peaceful little island like this. You're providing me with food and shelter so I'm looking to keep you alive because of it. Just about everyone who hates the Pirate King will also hate you. You don't have to be a damn genius to know that the World Government's crooked and will act on rumors, trying to trace down not only the source but the child and will likely kill both the baby and the mother. They will then hunt down and kill anyone associated with the mother."

Xanxus closed the newspaper to look at his host. She was tense enough that he expected her to start shaking but clear-eyed and determined. Very impressive self-control considering how hormones must be influencing her emotions. If this world had movies, they were missing quite the actress in the making.

**Resolution**

"I could leave and sell the information about you and make a fortune." He added leadingly.

"You won't." Rouge replied tersely.

"I won't." He agreed. "I suppose you're aware that it will only get harder from here?"

"Yes."

"That the World Government might take and execute children, their mothers, their families. That they might cull the population of South Blue or the entire world, all because of the possibility of Roger having a child?"

"Yes."

Rouge was still as resolutely focused as before.

"That even despite all your efforts, you might die or your child will?"

"I'm prepared for that."

Xanxus smiled, rose to his full height and approached the expecting mother. She didn't back away and her body was far too tense to not telegraph her next move. Zero combat experience but intuitive, as well as very resolute. The first was easy to fix, but the other two were innate and much harder to find.

"Roger should have taken you out to sea. You would have made a damn fine Queen."

Xanxus took her hand and kissed the knuckles while on one knee.

**Abrupt**

Xanxus then turned away, parked his ass back in the chair and returned to his newspaper. He flicked it open, to read the articles more thoroughly. He was going to learn where everything was at, both on the legal and illegal markets eventually and having an idea of what was going on wherever was a start. His stroll in town was more about getting the basics. Detailed information could come later, as and when he either obtained or memorized it. Rouge still hadn't moved.

"Oi, are you going to let the food burn?"

Startled by the sudden change back to normality, she immediately focused on her food.

Xanxus found her rather easy to read. He could check off 'raised to be a demure lady' for Rouge's past since she was embarrassed about speaking out and condemning masses of people for her own child. That was why she was happy to care for him, as it was something to do that didn't involve hiding her condition or stressing over her lover.

So this cottage, was likely an inheritance. The fact that she wasn't married could either be put down to lack of interest in men -considering her pregnant status that was a no- or wanting someone who was her opposite and match -considering her lover was the Pirate King, that was a yes. Obviously she had been spoiled into believing she had a right to an actual choice in men if human nature crossed dimensions, so probably a widower father who had been deeply in love with Rouge's mother. Rouge lacked the air that most ladies raised by their mothers had, which made her refreshing to be around compared to most mafia-raised ladies. Maybe a trusting elderly nurse had done it. Rouge's half-assed lying skill said that nurse put down boundaries that Rouge had broken and lied about as a young woman and gotten away with, as confidence in your lying skills made you better at it.

All together, not totally outside of the norm that Xanxus was familiar either, which was reassuring. This was mostly assumptions here, but Xanxus was uncannily perceptive about such things. Rouge's situation was so fucking storybook that all it needed was a witch and a damn curse to be fairy tale or a sword in a stone to become crowned King. Unfortunately, she got him and he was no fairy godparent.

"By the way Rouge, if you want to fool anybody with a brain, you're going to have to get much better at lying."

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><p>AN I feel like I'm writing for an audience of two, one of which is this story's beta. Reviews would be appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the stunning Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Routine<strong>

Xanxus' continued mooching off of Rouge had led to a routine being developed. It was subject to change but still a routine of sorts.

Rouge usually stayed at her cottage doing household jobs, but twice a week she went out shopping. Another day was devoted to visiting friends in town. One other day was usually split in half. The morning for doing office work for the businesses she had inherited, and the afternoon spent wandering the island's lush greenery. Most of the time while at the cottage she was either being painfully domestic or reading. Xanxus had browsed the books, but it was mainly novels and a few cookbooks rather than useful stuff. Some could be informative but there were other, more informative sources to look into. Rouge was an eccentric in where she kept those books, as who actually kept books in kitchen cabinets?

To Xanxus, Rouge's routine proved that this really was a different time, culture and dimension. It was very trusting. Xanxus was treating Rouge as his personage; someone that he was being bodyguard to without them really understanding what that meant, as both Mist flames and assassin training led to him being unknown to anyone else on the island. Rouge surprisingly hadn't mentioned that she had found a strange man and brought him home, nor had anyone thought it strange that Rouge was buying more food. How she had managed to keep her affair secret became slightly clearer. He still thought everyone who hadn't noticed that to be fucking idiots.

He tended to follow her while she was shopping so as to learn the ingredient prices, quality, listen to gossip and as an invisible protector. When she was visiting friends, Xanxus broke into their houses and made certain that those friends weren't dangerous to Rouge. After determining that they were not, he helped himself to their more useful books until he ran out of those, learning more about this place he had been stuck in for nearly a month now. When she was working in the office, discussing arrivals, cargo details and the like with the captains that worked for her, he learned about this world's office equipment. The den-den-mushi was a disturbing find that proved if God existed, God must hate him and be fond of really fucking awful puns. Xanxus listened to what was selling where, market trends, competitors and cargo lost due to piracy. It was as informative as the newspaper with less government lies and bias.

The days Rouge wasn't in town, he was usually gathering information or out training either with his flames or physically. He couldn't waste ammo on target practice as there was no easy way to replenish it. He would have to make it himself completely from scratch. The casings, the powder, even the bullet itself. He would likely have to make his own tools for it as well since gun technology was still in its infancy here.

He also learned the length of the year, the months, the names of the days and even some holidays that were disturbingly similar. He learned about the common ship styles and strengths. He learned who was who in the recent history of this world, and the existence of actual Giants, Fishmen, Mermaids, Long-legs, Long-arms and Devil Fruits.

Other species Xanxus was willing to forgive since they were all aliens to him but Devil Fruits sounded absurd until he looked objectively at the whole Acrobaleno mess. Great power in exchange for a curse indeed. Still, the powers listed were fucking strange.

**Execution**

"They've set the date, my business partner in Lougetown said." Rouge said.

Xanxus blinked. "I suppose it'll be in the papers soon." The assassin scowled. "Are you going to go?"

"It'll be a mad house, full of tourists, locals, marines, pirates and criminals. As much as I wish to see him one last time, I don't want to see him die."

Xanxus nodded, as he considered that he could turn such a crush into something profitable and towards his own business or more accurately, hobbyist ends. He might be protecting Rouge but that still didn't seem like enough to cancel his debt. Genuine kindness was hard to repay except with genuine kindness and Xanxus was not a kind man. Stealing on this island would be easily noticed, as the population wasn't high enough to truly get away without notice. Some clothing, some cash and odds and ends here and there, things people could explain away as getting lost, misplaced or picked up by wild animals, but not really enough to do much with.

Beyond that Lougetown would be swarmed by people so adding to the ranks of pickpockets for a few days would give him start-up cash. Possibly enough to get him to where he could finally do some hobby work. He'd just have to talk some blacksmith into giving up their forge for the day.

He missed creating guns and the ones he could find here were just so horrible, he really wanted to shoot anyone who made such weapons. He then revised that thought; he was short on bullets and the guns here were such utter shit that they'd be more effective as a bludgeon.

**Date**

"So when is the date?"

"The tenth of October."

"That's interesting." Xanxus admitted.

"How so?"

"It's my birthday."

"And you want to go."

"You say that as if I'm a little kid and will just waste my time and money there."

"Oh, and how old will you be Mr. Thief?" Rouge asked, referring to the fact that he had stolen a few things now in her guest room.

"Twenty-three." Xanxus said, discounting the eight years spent in ice. They didn't count unless he wanted them to.

**Travel**

As Xanxus had very few beri -still a ridiculous currency- to his name and what he did have was stolen, he couldn't travel openly off of the island. Still, stowing away wasn't that hard and he got to watch how to sail a ship first hand. Xanxus was able to witness the coordination between ship and crew and learn the knots, where to put them, why and how. The ship had a new hire so Xanxus was able to observe the lessons.

The winds were favorable, the journey short and Xanxus unnoticed as they went to a larger island. This island was just a brief stop for the crew as the next island would be a few days further out. Xanxus briefly pretended he was Mammon and shamelessly robbed people, houses and businesses alike. Then he obtained more food because he wasn't going to be caught by doing something as stupid as raiding the ship's store.

The next island and the one he was getting off at to find another ship to take him to East Blue went by the name of Machina -pronounced Ma-keen-na of all things. Xanxus saw the slums, the industrialization, the charcoal smoke from forges, workshops and refineries and briefly fell in love. Here he could obtain the tools he'd want for his preferred hobby in the absence of Squalo. So he did just that. They were shit quality, but he could make use of them until he either had someone make him better ones or made them himself. At least now he had the basics.

He also found a ship going towards East Blue after one more stop in South Blue. Xanxus was torn between wanting to sleep and paying the damn passage fee. He calculated the odds of the fucking Captain hiking up the price on his next stop against his need for sleep.

He'd pay the damn fee and at least being from Machina gave him an excuse for his more noticeable characteristics beyond his violent disposition. The scars from the damn ice made him easily identifiable like that, especially in such a warm climate as this one. Being a metalsmith explained the burn scars at least.

**Passage**

Xanxus found out how ships got from East Blue to South Blue despite the Grand Line and two Calm Belts to cross.

It was, as Xanxus was coming to expect, both absurd and insane and was appropriately named 'The Devil's Runway.' Or as Xanxus saw it, 'Extreme Absurdism in Action.'

The crew proved themselves experienced in sailing this route, as they quickly hooked onto the current near the Red Line as it was influenced by the 'climates' of the 'islands' that made up the Red Line. If Xanxus hadn't already come across such information, then he would be more skeptical. They were milking the current and wind for all it was worth because if they didn't they could get stranded in the Calm Belt which would make them Sea King food. For the most part the Calm Belt was utterly serene and forced that on every phenomena that entered. Waves, wind and storms were instantly stilled, which beyond being fucking suspicious as hell made going through them a pain in the ass. At least by being near the Red Line with its different climates made it less likely for Sea Kings to pop up.

Xanxus also found out that the Sea Kings were fucking huge. Seeing them in the distance with islands for comparison made Godzilla look like a baby duckling next to a moose or an elephant. Godzilla might be the size of Tokyo Tower, but Sea Kings made him look like a matchstick.

Once they made it to the Grand Line proper they stopped at a grove of what were the mangrove trees in this world. Stopping there for a day allowed Xanxus to see sentient species other than humans. The assassin learned quite a bit about the Grand Line and how Pirates usually got to this side from the Blues as the Marines kept the area close to the Red Line very well patrolled so most pirates wouldn't risk the journey that his route was taking. The usual pirate route involved using the current going up Reverse Mountain, sailing through the Grand Line and then a journey under the Red Line in a coated ship that made it sink but still have a breathable atmosphere around it. Physics from his home world said such a thing was fucking impossible and absurd but it worked here so long as you had a good ship-coater and weren't attacked by sea beasts or giant fish.

Xanxus also met his first mermaid. He also rescued her and her friends. He had been intent on robbing some scum-pirates -money was important after all, especially if he wanted to stay in a place of decent quality- only to discover the crying captives in their hold. They were in their teens and were grateful that those who had intended to sell them had arrived on the wrong side of the Line to sell them to the Auction House. The eldest mermaid explained that if that had happened they would have been outfitted with bomb collars to prevent their escape or do anything that would displease their master because the bomb would explode if the collar was messed with or detonated by remote. Xanxus refrained from growling, just. One of the smaller mermaids who had to be younger than ten asked why a human was being so nice to them. Xanxus scoffed at that as he picked the locks on the chains and explained roughly that he didn't like anybody but hated scum more.

After setting the mermaids free, he took out the trash with nothing but a knife and hand-to-hand. He left no survivors and didn't allow a drop of blood from any of the trash get on him. Not even on his boots as he walked away from the massacre. A stop by the bar scored him some Tequila, and it was of decent quality. He didn't see where the mermaids went and didn't care: they weren't his problem and were long gone.

They repeated the process of crawling along the Red Line to get into East Blue. Xanxus saw another Sea King and wondered how the fuck were those supposed to be the same damn species. Maybe they were all known as Sea Kings like lions, tigers and house cats were known as 'felines' and 'Sea Kings' was used as a catch-all category for all unidentified large and fucking huge aquatic species. That made a bit more sense, he supposed as he doubted very few wanted to get close enough to research the creatures in person. He also doubted that the people here had the technology needed for a genetic analysis to determine how closely related the subspecies were.

Still, he'd be in Lougetown soon, which would mean a lot of errands and learning. Baterila was a nice island but it was still tiny and not important in the scheme of things; its ability to provide the information which he sought was limited.


	8. Chapter 8

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the magnificent Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Arrival<strong>

After getting through the next Calm Belt, they then had to avoid being dragged up Reverse Mountain as they neared Lougetown.

Xanxus got a good look at the landmark, noticing that the top was high enough to reach and surpass the clouds. Also that it was big, very big. It was large enough to be the only mountain to be a part of all four Blues and the Grand Line.

If being drawn up Reverse Mountain happened then they'd have to either sail through the Grand Line and back around the world because of how difficult and dangerous the route was. They couldn't just creep along the Red Line if drawn up Reverse Mountain as that had been explained to the newbie sailor as 'impossible' since once through Reverse Mountain there was erratic weather due to the nearby islands and Reverse Mountain's calm weather didn't last far past the exit. The fact that they'd be on the other side of the Red Line would mean having to travel halfway around the world, in the Grand Line to get to the only other point where you could get through the Red Line.

The Grand Line and the Red Line did a fucking wonderful job of isolating the Blues from each other, although the Calm Belts did the worst of it. The Grand Line and its Calm Belts were major obstacles in travelling from the Blue in the Northern Hemisphere to South Blue in the Southern Hemisphere. The Red Line also did a fucking wonderful job at being a choke-point in travel because sailors either had to brave Reverse Mountain or the Calm Belt and get permission from the government to use their passage or risk sailing underwater, as paradoxical as that sounded depending on where they started out. Then they still had to breach the Calm Belt again. Xanxus was glad that he had ended up in South Blue instead of West or North Blue because that was too much shit to deal with.

After passing the point of possibly getting swept up in the currents it was easy sailing towards Lougetown.

**Circumstances**

From what Xanxus knew of East Blue it was normally the most peaceful and weakest sea in the world. That would be true normally. Circumstances however were anything but normal. When the Pirate King was finally executed, he would have a large crowd as witness with people and beings from all walks of life from all parts of the world; people who were currently converging on Lougetown. Those from a ways away would have power, sway and money.

Xanxus really didn't envy any security officials here. There would be a large spike in crimes, suspicious people and people in the streets at all hours causing trouble and disputes. Xanxus would only be one more criminal here and an unknown one at that. So he went about his criminal activities, obtaining a significant amount of money from what tried to be the local mafia. They were so pathetic that Xanxus was embarrassed for them. Their security was fucking shit, so he was doing them a favor. He didn't even rough any of them up for being a disgrace to the profession. They weren't worth the effort and he had better things to do than taking out trash.

Still, he had time before the execution to find somewhere safe to sleep while blending in and a place to forge a more time-appropriate looking gun. He loved his X-guns but they were Over-technology and thus needed to _not_ be noted by anyone since word would get back to the World Government somehow and it would be a fucking mess. This also meant that he was stuck in this dimension until those moronic scientists manage to fucking fix things and get him back, since this dimension lacked the technology and expertise to even attempt dimensional travelling.

Still, he first had to find lodgings. Lougetown was busy and only going to get busier so securing them was imperative.

**Lodgings**

Xanxus was normally picky about hotels when he could be. It made up for the fact that the Varia had dealt with and slept in some of the most hellish conditions possible while on missions, especially if it required stake-outs or the mission went bad. Xanxus could remember sleeping in nearly as poor conditions with his mother once or twice, although they had lacked people shooting at them. Toss things at them, yes, but nothing that would explode like a damn flash-bang.

Xanxus would usually go for opulence but he didn't have Vongola resources, he wanted to keep his illicit wealth to himself and he was treating his entire time here like an information gathering mission. He might have been here since July in this dimension but that didn't mean he had all the information he wanted or needed since Baterila was a small quaint island that lacked resources that Lougetown would have. So he'd have to find something within his budget that was clean, had a corner room high up available with a bathroom to wash up in because Xanxus was willing to kill for a hot shower after nearly two weeks without a proper bath. He had killed for less.

Stepping into a store selling general goods, Xanxus bought a few things he might need at the lodgings. Hotel soap, shampoo and conditioner were probably not provided or at least wouldn't be enough for a longer stay. He bought the scentless ones and they went into his larger backpack with multiple pouches, that he had stolen back on that first island in South Blue. He also needed a few changes of clothing. He had his uniform and a few stolen changes of clothing but not a lot else. Lougetown was the only town he'd been to so far that was large enough to have a tailor and a clientele that would want that sort of business, especially for the kind of clothing he preferred. He still needed another few pairs of protective pants for his hobby work, but that could wait so he shopped for basics and asked for recommendations for a place to stay. If the gunsmith was the same or relatively close, Xanxus could borrow his.

Xanxus was then reminded of why Squalo or Mammon were the ones that were in charge of finding and securing lodgings. It was annoying and he missed the internet and fucking proper phones as that would help prevent this sort of fucking aggravation. Hell, he still hadn't seen a damn radio and it was damn telling that he had missed Levi's shitty taste in music. The den-den mushi might be used for practically any and all communication and even surveillance but that didn't mean he didn't miss having some sort of background noise.

The Silver Ring wasn't that bad but he didn't like it as while it was close to alcohol he wouldn't be able to sleep due to the noise of the nearby pub. The Galloping Seahorse aggravated him with its obnoxiousness. The Golden Fish was decaying in a way that told him that if it even had plumbing the water wouldn't be warm. The Outrageous Octopus was more of Lussuria's speed as the number of okama there was more than he wanted to deal with unless he was being paid to do so, which he wasn't. The House of Spades proved the least aggravating of all those recommended to him.

He asked after which rooms had a bathroom and was informed that all rooms had access to a bathroom with shower, although the single bed rooms had to share the bathroom with another. For that reason alone, Xanxus booked a larger room, despite the hit his measly finances took. It wasn't hard to pick up more cash after all.

**Clean-up**

Hot water and plumbing were two of man kind's greatest inventions, next to air conditioning and the gun in Xanxus' opinion. This opinion was also shared by most of the Varia although the last item on the list was often subject to change. Squalo insisted swords were better and Mammon claimed it was money.

Xanxus was able to wash off the layer of dirt and grime that he had built up since leaving South Blue and wash his hair properly. He scrubbed himself thoroughly and took a knife to his face to shave with. After drying off and getting into his newly bought clothing -socks and boxers included- he combed his hair. Deciding to let it stay flat and hang forward over his eyes instead of brushing it back as it made him look younger and more lord-like, which was good as he really wanted some tailored trousers. He would probably have to ask a few okama who was the best locally for that; most okama were wonderful about making clothing be able to hide concealed weapons. Xanxus could patch things and sew some but he wasn't skilled enough to do that from scratch. Most of Xanxus' sewing experience was in field dressing wounds after all.

Smelling like a new man, venturing into The Outrageous Octopus was better received. He still wanted to stab people -shooting was not allowed because he had so few bullets- but that's because some okama were far more tolerable than others, which made them just like everyone else. A few hours later and the okama tailor had gotten his measurements, preferences for blades and where he liked to stash them so that the weight of the blades didn't pull the fabric in ways to make the concealed part of the 'concealed weapons' concept useless.

Only after he had escaped the okama upon learning that he'd have a pair ready to be tested in a few hours, Xanxus combed back his hair so he looked older and looked for a gunsmith that could be convinced into letting him borrow their forge for a bit. This took a bit of searching and more asking for directions as gunsmiths were far rarer than swordsmiths and ordinary blacksmiths. Xanxus did manage to borrow the space just because the owner was from Machina and Xanxus had claimed it as his home-island when asked where he was from. Finally, he'd be able to make his own guns after nearly three months of enforced idleness!

**Prison**

There was still one other objective that Xanxus had while in Lougetown and that was to visit Roger in person before he was to be executed. Rouge hadn't asked him and would never have considered it, but Xanxus had a few questions he wanted to ask.

That was a goal that would take quite a bit of work to achieve. Here, in Lougetown was where security would focus its efforts. There were worries about Roger's crew coming to rescue him, much like his rival tried to do when Shiki escaped Impel Down. So not only would the building be full of useless trash pretending to be competent, they would also have high level officers which were of similar level, but probably less powerful people than the Pirate King that could be equally dangerous as their captive. Maybe more so depending their Devil Fruit ability and how well they've mastered it, if they had it.

Time spent here had informed him from rumors that some of the physical capabilities of people here were immense in ways that screamed either Dying Will Flames or something else. He was going to find out about it because damn if he was going to lose to uppity fucking trash here.


	9. Chapter 9

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the marvelous Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Medical<strong>

Remembering that the Pirate King was dying from some incurable disease reminded Xanxus that just because he hadn't gotten sick yet didn't mean he _couldn't_. He could easily catch something that could kill or cripple him in this world simply because he hadn't been born here and the germs evolved differently. It would be fucking pathetic to die to this world's common cold.

He could use the harmony aspect of his sky flames and use sun flames to kick-start his immune system but unless you knew what the hell you were doing you could cause a severe allergic reaction or just pointlessly waste bodily resources and feel tired because your body was pouring energy into making immune cells instead. Admittedly, he had used the former to kill people untraceably before, which was how he knew it could happen.

He grimaced. All the people pouring into Lougetown from all over the planet meant that all sorts of strange diseases would be brought in. Parasites too. So he was going to have to check the medical capabilities and scientific research levels of this world, and get himself vaccinated, if such a thing existed.

He should also look up things about pregnancy considering his charge's status and likely inability to go to a doctor. If he was estimating the amount of hatred those in power held for Roger, any doctor and medical specialists was going to be interrogated about the population he or she served. As he had found that the Tenryubito had the marines ignore their slave-trade, Xanxus knew that they wouldn't hesitate to torture people for information.

He knew very little about the process of pregnancy from a medical standpoint and he was still dealing with aliens, no matter how similar to humans they seemed to be. Childbirth wasn't something most male members of the mafia needed to know about dealing with anyway, so that lack of knowledge would have to be corrected. Preferably after he was vaccinated so he wouldn't die before then.

Vaccines were preventative medicine and something that the Varia kept updated religiously, even to diseases that didn't exist in any modern country or didn't exist in the human population anymore. The Vongola and the Varia didn't see a point in raging biological warfare that couldn't be controlled, such as releasing a plague on a population, but that didn't mean they didn't know that others wouldn't and there were a lot of nasty little illnesses sitting around in labs the world over. So countermeasures such as prophylactics and vaccines against rabies, polio and smallpox were as common as the tetanus shot.

There were a surprising number of assassins afraid of needles -generally because they knew how very easy it was to poison one and have it be fatal and unnoticed- Varia Quality or not. Paying Mammon into fooling them so they could be easily inoculated was cheaper than the potential mess made as they scrambled to get away. This meant Mammon didn't actually mind getting new recruits, as to him it meant getting easy money. He still complained about them though. Xanxus had to agree that the difference between Varia Recruits and Varia Members was immense.

Xanxus still spent part of the night watching the marine base with mist-made equipment capable of seeing through walls and pretending he didn't exist. Target Sensing was a high-level skill that told you when someone was watching at a distance but Xanxus could do it and he was acting under the assumption that he was possibly dealing with a building full of people at his level and above based on sheer power according to rumor.

So keeping his intentions blank and presence non-existent was a good thing, as that was the basis of Presence Erasing. That was an assassin's skill and not a hitman's even if the better ones learned to make use of it. The main difference between assassins and hitmen were than assassins had less freedom of choice in how to make the kill and were meant to do so relatively quietly. Hitmen were meant to be a show of force.

Basically, assassins offered a highly tailored service while hitmen were a type of enforcer, often using their specialty to demoralizing effect.

**Early**

Xanxus left his rooftop perch before false dawn started. His perch was defensible and hard to see but getting to and from it was open in a way that Xanxus didn't like, so he left it under the cover of darkness. The bakeries and pastry shops were by then allowing employees in to make the bread and sweets that would later be sold. There were a few bars still full of patrons, most of which were sleeping in alcohol induced stupors. A few he noticed were passed out in the alleys, which was not a good fate. The sun had yet to rise and heat the island so the air was misty but dead allowing for the smell of piss and vomit to stagnate.

Xanxus casually broke into his own hotel room with ease, and changed out current clothes. He had to check and see about the laundry service here, because he'd rather not have to wash his own clothes if he didn't have to. He had done it before, but he didn't like to.

He was going to get a nap and shower before he dealt with the business of determining how close these humanoid aliens were to people like him from a medical standpoint. He knew enough that they died and bled like humans he was familiar with, which was normally good enough. After all, killing doesn't really change much species to species; compromising organ functions, beheading and blood loss were the types of death that could happen to anything.

Getting sick himself worried him because he could actually die and it would be pathetic. Dying from something as stupid as a preventable illness would not allow him to take out all of his frustration for being stuck in this absurd dimension on those idiots who had stranded him here.

**Bookstore**

One of the better things about being in such a large town was the fact that there were actual bookstores. Bookstores that actually contained texts that would give him useful and reasonably reliable answers. Yesterday he had been too distracted by errands and stake-outs to do much.

Baterilla was a small island and so most of the books they bought were novels and the like. While the island technically had a doctor, Xanxus had found no trace of any medical texts or journals in the Doctor's residence or practice so he was doubtful about the capability of said doctor. He was more likely to be the sort of doctor who'd learned just enough to get by in an isolated area with a healthy population than one who actually knew how to deal with serious emergencies. A hedge-doctor, so to speak. Xanxus would rather rely on his own medical skills than someone like that.

The assassin discovered that a lot of the medical terminology matched with what he was familiar with as he flipped through books. That was a lot of coincidence, really far too much since this was a different dimensions and it had different histories. At least an alternate reality would make such an amount of coincidences more sensible, since they'd be the same until the point of divergence.

A few things were different but that was mostly in who discovered what medicine or made this breakthrough. Pasteurization existed but it wasn't called that here because of who discovered the process but because it was known as the 'process of purifying products from animals of the pasture.' Further book browsing informed him that in some areas medicine was about equal to what he knew of modern medicine, but that would only be in top-notch, world-class doctors. In other words, rich people's doctors, which was typical.

That fit with what he expected, considering he knew the habits of both mafia doctors and regular doctors; he had killed a number of both. Generally doctors came in two types; those who cared and those who were in it for the money. The ones in it for the money were usually better because they specialized, so long as you went to them for their specialty and had money. They were also the ones who tried to talk patients into things, so they could continue to milk a profit, so the Varia was more likely to be hired to kill that type. The other type could easily get on someone's nerve or territory and get dead for being a selfless person. Selfless people were often morons like that.

He was pleased to discover that vaccines existed so, he was going to have to find out where they were kept, what they were for, what dosage needed to be used, which ones could be used together and the scheduling for such things. He was not going to kill himself by overdosing on a vaccine of all things and over burdening his immune system. From what the books said the immune system of these aliens were very much alike but that didn't mean it was the same.

At least he knew what he was doing today.

**Supplies**

Xanxus had figured out where the local hospital was. Smaller clinics were unlikely to have spare vaccines around. The problem was that the local hospital wasn't worth the effort. It was understaffed, underfunded and more of a health hazard than sleeping in some back alley. Anyone unlucky enough to end up in there was going to die, either of fucking incompetence or disease. As harsh as the chemicals used to clean hospitals were, they worked at preventing all sorts of fucking shit from growing and infecting patients.

So he was going to have to sneak into a marine hospital which had a higher risk associated with it but wouldn't be as suspicious for a random guy to get vaccinated at. Thankfully while close to the base, it was not close enough that he was going to truly worry about it causing concern for those guarding the Pirate King, if the man and his entourage even here yet. That was something he needed to confirm, which would require breaking in for information at least, hence the stake-outs.

That information wasn't available to the public and Xanxus didn't have spies on his payroll in this dimension. Well, not yet. Hopefully he wouldn't be here long enough to need them either. Being stranded in another dimension for a few months wasn't much compared to eight years in ice, since he could at least do something here. He could be patient.

At best he was hoping that they'd be there for a few nights but it was unlikely. He might only get a single night at best, depending on when the ship came in. Timing was going to be tight as hell, and they may not even put the Pirate King on base, using the base as a dummy and keeping him on ship until it was time to lead him to be publicly executed. That was a stupid fucking plan but if some idiot higher up -possibly a Tenryubito- decided it was to be done, so the Marines would do it.

Thankfully getting inoculated was stupidly easy. Due to the capture of the Pirate King the numbers of those signing up to join the Marines was surging high. Because of the close quarters that being on ship required, it would be disastrous if a person got sick as it could easily infect the rest of the ship. So the Marines would thoroughly inoculate those who had joined up to prevent that.

All it took was some minor use of mist-flames to make him lose distinguishing characteristics, a stolen uniform he was keeping -no telling when that would come in handy- and telling the nurse that the officer said he needed his shots, since he had never had any. Six needles later and a quick test to determine blood type later -he was still O negative and it meant the same thing here as at home so any decent doctor would leech blood from him first and he was screwed if he was ever injured enough to need a transfusion as per usual- and got told the typical warning 'might feel tired, feverish' spiel. He was also told to come back in a week for the next round.

At least this saved him a lot of work in finding out which amounts and which ones he needed and all that fucking crap. He just had to steal his inoculation form when he finally left Lougetown, so he knew what he'd had that would last and what he'd need to renew at some point and how many more to go.

**Hobby**

After changing into his normal clothes and stashing the marine uniform, he first found something hot and fresh to eat. Then he entered his hotel room and got out his recently acquired gunsmithing tools. He then found the gunsmith willing to lend him his furnace and the protective equipment he didn't have for the day. Thankfully, the gunsmith was the same size as he was, more or less unlike some truly fucking freaky body types Xanxus had witnessed.

Xanxus asked the old man if it was alright to borrow a few of his tools since they were better than his travel tools. The old man agreed.

Xanxus got to work creating a gun from scratch. Gods above, he had missed this.


	10. Chapter 10

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the sublime Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Familiarity<strong>

It is a sign of Xanxus' comprehensive knowledge of his hobby that he could easily make a ball-and-powder gun. One of the first things he had stolen in this strange dimension was a gun. It had been poorly maintained and fucking pathetically primitive, but it gave him an idea of where projectile and gun technology was at so he could blend in. As much as he adored his X-guns, they only had so much ammo which when out of ammo made their worth drop dramatically especially since there was a tyrannical World Government to consider. An _intelligent_ tyranny was to be avoided and the World Government had proven to be both.

Unlike the single-shot flintlocks that he was familiar with, this world had modified their guns so it was possible to shoot multiple rounds before reloading. That was an interesting mechanism. He had then returned the piece of trash to the scum that was using it, who hadn't even noticed that his gun had gone missing. He was able to copy and adjust that capability to the pistol he had just built from scratch.

It was not his best quality work; far from it due to poor quality of metals and other equipment based limits. It was still a pretty little thing, decorated with a fleur de lis theme on the barrel and wood. He used a tiny amount of his Flames of Wrath to etch his signature on the metal, as was his habit for his personally made guns.

**Quality**

Xanxus skipped on the offer of dinner in favor of testing, which proved to the old man that Xanxus really was from Machina. No other place in the world had obsessive engineers and tetchy blacksmiths like Machina, at least according to the gunsmith. Xanxus wouldn't know that personally as he had barely been on the island a day and hadn't slowed down his thieving spree to talk to anyone, but it had been enough time for him to find everything he wanted and learn the basics of who was who because he was going to go back there. He might have to kill a few people and buy a few more off for materials and a forging workshop but that wouldn't be a big deal.

The old man allowed Xanxus the use of his firing range, powder and shot to test the gun that Xanxus was referring to as 'Iride' or 'Iris' despite the fleur de lis pattern traditionally being associated with a lily. Lily in Italian was Giglio, which reminded him of the Giglio Nero Famiglia who showed up for the Arcobaleno trials and all the annoying shit that went down to release Mammon from his curse. At least Iride, as a name, didn't anger him like Giglio would.

Xanxus, giddy over finally able to shoot something after so long, would later admit that he and the old man went a little wild. After Xanxus proved his weapon's ability to shoot accurately, the old man started offering him further and more impossible shots like weather-vanes several blocks away and even tossed up a few coins for Xanxus to shoot mid-air. Xanxus was a little clumsy on his first reload, but that diminished by his second and was nearly gone on his third.

"Say, do you know there's a shooting competition up soon?"

Xanxus, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the high that being able to shoot something brought him nodded slowly, as he knew events like that were bound to happen. The whole time up to the execution was filled with competitions and contests in a festival like manner. Shooting competitions would be newer events compared to others but they would be popular because of how easy it was to learn to use a gun.

Guns were always quick to gain military popularity due to the fact that training someone to shoot a gun accurately at a distance took a few weeks if you were concerned about accuracy. Compared to swords or bows, guns were _easy_ and they had the benefit of being quick to manufacture or would once this world industrialized some more. They were also favored for home defense as they had the benefit of _range_ compared to a knife.

"I'm going to sign you up. Us Machina-folk have to stick together."

The food was cold by the time they were done testing his gun to both men's satisfaction but Xanxus didn't really care. He was finally able to relax in a way that even tormenting Squalo wasn't able to, never mind that Squalo wasn't here.

**Twilight**

Armed with his new gun, Iride, that was still utter shit compared to his preferred pair in terms of power and range but for a time it was a damn fine gun by this dimension's backwater alien standards, Xanxus left the smith behind after being reassured that he could come back anytime to use the forge. The rifling in the barrel added accuracy to his shot at range, which was something that was still a problem at the moment for just about every other gun currently out. The smith hadn't stuck around to watch, so he had no idea how Xanxus had made the gun so accurate and the assassin intended to keep things that way.

Guns, in many ways, were superior weapons in terms of range, but that was only true if they were accurate. Sure, inaccuracies could be accounted for with time and practice but that didn't make them time or cost efficient considering how young gun technology was in this world.

Now thoroughly mellowed, Xanxus willingly bought a bottle of decent whiskey from a bar using stolen money. He didn't stay in the bar long -he didn't feel like allowing strangers to dampen his good mood- and after a little wandering he found a nice spot to stake-out the local Marine base.

Xanxus didn't mind the fact that he was going to have a boring night of memorizing where the guards were and when they moved or other tedious things. He finally had a weapon he could shoot people with without attracting undue attention.

**Mist**

If there was one flame that was most wanted when they were an assassin it was the Mist Flame. The ability to create illusions and make them reality was an assassin's wet dream, if they were smart about it.

It was also this flame that Xanxus had the most practice at using, next to his Sky and Wrath Flames. It was just that fucking useful. The possibilities were only limited by his imagination and his will and Xanxus had no shortage of either. So making transportation, tools, decoys, invisibility and disguises were only the tip of its usefulness. As the Sawada's female Mist Guardian proved, they could even be used to extend someone's life, so long as the illusion could be maintained.

The last however was something that only someone whose main attribute was Mist though could easily do, as few Sky Flame users that there were, most were ill-practiced at using a specific attribute and for good reason. It was very fucking hard to do.

Harmonizing was more mentally difficult than actually using the damn Mist flame in the first place and keeping Harmonized was something Xanxus couldn't do while asleep. He would have to make Harmonization as instinctual as breathing and then still keep the illusion up while using it, if he was to even attempt it. Perfection or nothing at all.

As his most recent experience showed, he couldn't do that. Yet anyway. He now had plenty of incentive to practice it, even if he would likely never use such a skill again, especially if those damn scientists did their jobs.

Mist Flames actual combat capability was low, but if you were an assassin, who the hell did you have to actually fight if you did your damn job right? You were not a thuggish hitman who would go in, guns blazing and making an obvious and fucking huge mess. It didn't take a lot of control to be invisible and undetectable so it was pathetically easy to poison someone like that. That said, it was pretty easy for most Mists to learn how to make a double of themselves and let it be shot at while they fired from a safer and hidden location. It made gun fights a bit ridiculous.

Still, there was a reason that the role of the Mist Guardian was traditionally information-gathering and espionage. The Mist Flame had lots of utility in that area and it was in that area Xanxus was focusing on.

**Break**

The second night of stake-outs on the base ended like the first. He disappeared from his spot before false dawn ever showed up and broke into his hotel room for another shower and a change of clothes. Xanxus hated not being able to wash up from a purely practical standpoint; scent trails were damning. Until he could find odor-erasing supplies he was going to have to be old school about preventing scent tracking. Staying clean helped with that, as did moving over rooftops where scent was less likely hang about and long jumps between buildings would confuse the trail.

Later he had to check in with the okama-tailor who was making his clothing that could conceal weapons without showing that they were doing that. He was also going to pick up some more knives, find out which shooting competition the gunsmith signed him up for and where it was and then pick up some books for study.

No need to burn himself out and make mistakes like a greenhorn. Pacing was key for any long-term mission. He still had over a week before the 10th and plenty to do before then. Finding where and when a Pirate King would be, included.

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><p>You're getting an extra chapter today, in celebration of Xanxus' birthday. So I'm 10 chapters in on October 10th.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the remarkable Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Unhealthy<strong>

Xanxus was familiar with feeling like shit. Most of the time it happened during or after a strenuous mission turned clusterfuck, occasionally injuries but the other times was during poison resistance training. There really were too many poisons out there to truly build a genuine resistance to all of them, but that didn't mean that the more common ones couldn't be dealt with. This wasn't a required Varia standard but most members did it to a degree on a regular basis, as dying of something preventable was seen as a fucking disgrace.

Him feeling like utter crap at the moment proved to him that those inoculations were worth it. If a weakened or dead strain could knock him on his ass like this within the day, then the real thing could have been deadly to him. Vaccines saved lives. End of story. Totally worth the occasional sick-day compared to sick-week or sick-month or dying or being mentally crippled by a high fever, which was worse than being dead in his opinion. Shit like that happened. Modern medicine was an under appreciated miracle.

Since he was feeling out of sorts in a way that he knew was only going to get worse, he was going to hole up in his room for the next two days except for the stakeouts and if the shooting competition happened.

Even delirious, Xanxus knew he had excellent aim.

**Notice**

The old gunsmith handed Xanxus the flyer with the time, date and location of the competition. Xanxus would have normally stayed to talk guns and maybe get another go in the forge to make himself some better tools but he was ill and disguising it with sleepiness. The gunsmith went by the name of Barret Clyde and used the western naming convention -first name then surname- despite everybody else he'd met using the Japanese traditional 'last name first' system.

This dimension was making less sense to him and he'd figure it out properly once he wasn't sick anymore. He stopped by the hotel dining room for some tea and a light breakfast with plenty of citrus, as they offered meal discounts for overnight customers. His stay was already paid for up until a week after the execution, so he didn't have to worry about that. The only reason he went to the gunsmith first was because it was too damn early for them to have set up their breakfast options and to be a pest to the damn gunsmith for not telling him that information earlier.

He then found another bookstore and found a few books on pregnancy. Irritatingly the overweight and married clerk assumed that he had a lady-love that was expecting and expressed sympathy and unwanted advice about cravings, but Xanxus didn't have the energy to fend him off. So Xanxus, nodded, hid exactly how horrible he was feeling and escaped the bookstore as quickly as possible. The clerk had probably gotten the wrong idea about why he left but he didn't care. The books were dropped into his hotel room, via his window. The clerk didn't know his real face after all because sick or not, disguises were easy.

He then found the okama tailor, and was fussed over in a way that reminded him of Lussuria in ways that didn't make him feel homicidal which was a warning that he was sicker than he thought. First was fussing over his ill health -he said he had caught something foreign but would be better in a day or so- and then over the larger, more noticeable scars from the years on ice that were revealed by his having to undress and being too feverish to concentrate on hiding them all. Still sympathy points dropped his bill for the clothing some, which was a good thing, as his finances were getting low.

He brought his clothing back up to his room that he entered through the room and slept.

**Fever**

Xanxus woke up in the darkness that had just recently settled onto Lougetown, covered in sweat and feeling better. He realized that he had developed a fever at some point and it had just broken. Well, fuck.

Feeling icky, achy and hungry he decided to solve the first two under hot water. Hot showers were wonderful.

**Lost**

Xanxus had been keeping track of the news from the papers whenever possible. That was how he found out that he had lost two days of surveillance due to illness. How odd. Normally those with Sun and Sky Flames didn't get sick enough to lose days like that. That was a beneficial side effect of their flame attribute.

Xanxus then thought about it and realized that the Marines probably went for the more lethal diseases in their first round of vaccines. Colds were annoying but they weren't fatal. If you were going to have a bunch of recruits and sailors together then those should be done first. Doing the less lethal diseases first just meant that an outbreak of a lethal one before the course of vaccines were finished would cause all the time, money and effort spent in training said Marine troops to go to waste.

Vaccines could be really damn expensive to make depending on what it was for. Bacteria vaccines were often the cheapest but vaccines for viruses were expensive, especially if it was for those that were in theory locked up in little government labs behind layers and layers of security. Xanxus at least knew that the samples that the Varia's vaccines were made from were sealed up tight, because they were under the same protocol that the Varia's poison synthesis labs were but even stricter.

The protocols for the poison synthesis labs were thought of as 'disturbingly and thoroughly violating' for anyone entering and exiting the labs so there were people who lived in there and rarely came out because of those same protocols. Lapsing in them earned enough punishment that any who earned it found themselves either dead if they were smuggling products or psychologically incapable of not following through with the search protocol, no matter how boring the guard duty or disgusting the search both in and out was. It also applied to everyone, so not even the Boss of the Varia was exempt, which is how he liked it, or else the minions wouldn't have been conditioned to follow through on all the protocols.

As a bonus, the Varia had the most attentive watch-guards who never shrugged off their duty. They also had a body cavity search so thorough that it could be more intimate than sex which considering that the building was full of assassins who often saw sex as another tool was not surprising.

Still, shit and fuck his luck. That was a stupid mistake on his part, but he had survived. The next round of shots wouldn't be so bad, in theory.

At least he had a day before the shooting competition to recover and Sun Flames could work fucking miracles when used right.

**Blast**

While the competition was home to a number of crack shots, most of them did it for sport and it showed as guns were just getting reliable enough to gain popularity. Unlike Xanxus' sharp quick and efficient reloads, a number of competitors were much slower about it, dropping ammo or spilling powder when they tried to match his reload speed.

Xanxus hated how slow powder and shot was compared to bullets in reload time, how damaging to the gun this method was and really wished to 'invent' bullets as he knew them to avoid the hassle. Still, it wasn't that hard to build a decent speed at it so long as you minded how hot the barrel got. If it gained too much heat, the powder could blow up in your face or blast apart the metal. Iride might have been shit compared to his X-guns but it actually had a heat-sink in it so rapid reloads wouldn't cause explosions.

Clearly someone let in all the amateurs, and not just the dedicated ones either in this competition. Xanxus' accuracy was also superb, although that was a combination of both a superior weapon and lots of practice, albeit with different weapons but he had had plenty of time to adjust to Iride the day he made it.

Xanxus won the competition by a clear margin. The lanky man in a cowboy hat that came in second was far away in terms of score.

Somehow Barret managed to get him away from the crush of well-wishers after Xanxus got his cash award. Making Iride, then winning a contest with it less than a week later had apparently won him the reputation as a genius gunsmith. Barret had apparently been running his mouth.

He could work with that. Needed to, if he was ever going to make ammo for his X-guns since this dimension still used round shot and powder. That reminded Xanxus to check and see if it was lead he was shooting too; heavy metal poisoning was not a good way to go.

There was a rifle competition in three days after all. That was plenty of time to make one, practice with it and break into a highly fortified base for information about when and where the Pirate King was kept.

* * *

><p>Sorry, there will be OCs, they will be moderately importantneeded. Xanxus is making plans and so am I. This is a true cross-over after all. Mwahahaha!


	12. Chapter 12

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the radiant Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Coffee<strong>

After winning that shooting competition, Xanxus found himself sitting in Barret's kitchen with a cup of coffee, stack of prize money and thoughts about what he was going to do with his new reputation in the future. There were other shooting competitions in town, and he could enter and win them all if he needed to or even just wanted to do.

Obviously he was never going to be law-abiding but running or working on a pirate ship didn't appeal to him. He was going to have to set things up based on the assumption that he was going to be here for a while. Time could be very strange between dimensions from what he knew of the theory and it was possible that if they found him in a month -home time- it could be years in this dimension.

Coffee was not Xanxus' favorite thing to drink, nor was espresso since neither contained alcohol. However it did remind Xanxus of long hours spent researching and planning to make a perfect kill. Well, reading other people's research, since being the boss meant you had minions to do the boring bits for you. Planning however could be a hassle, even if his usual crazy grumpy attitude made his subordinates as self-sufficient as much as was at all possible.

The drink in his hands was familiar in a way that was comforting, just by being strong and crappy coffee. For a bunch of assassins who had impressive talents in their field, making coffee was not one of the skills required to get into the Varia; maybe it should be but it wasn't because very few assassins could.

The Varia compound had planning rooms that the housekeeping staff were banned from entering while planning was taking place. It was also protocol for nobody to exit or enter the room while planning was going on, so refreshments were made available prior to a planning session but often ran out quickly. Planning an assassination could take a while, especially if it was a large operation as coordinating squads on missions that didn't require an actual officer did need mission-specific compromises, so the assassins of the Varia had to make their own coffee with varying degrees of success. Often it was a wild array from bad through dire to borderline toxic. Most of the poison experts could make a wonderful cup of coffee but they weren't trusted to do so after the first time they poisoned someone who was arguing with their plan.

Xanxus didn't often have to deal with that sort of pissy arguing but that was because he was the Boss and what he said, goes. The Varia had many strengths and lots of quirks but they were above all loyal and deadly. They were his and he had a grudge to bear against idiot scientists who separated him from his people.

**Story**

Xanxus had to wonder what load of bullshit they were feeding the mafia who would be worried about his disappearance, if only because they were wondering if he was about to show up on their doorstep with orders to kill them.

His eight-year absence had been explained first as a secret mission -possible- but then as time went by the 'exile' theory came into play followed by 'he's probably dead,' which had led to 'forget he ever existed.' He had more or less been written off as dead after the second year spent in ice, which had made people's reactions upon his return really fucking sweet.

There was even a large and superstitious faction who claimed the Sawada Brat's Mist Guardian had resurrected him to serve the Vongola for the rest of eternity which was more widely believed than should be fucking possible since he didn't look like he was in his early-thirties like he was supposed to be.

The official Vongola response to this idiocy was to claim that his long-term absence had been 'Family business,' meaning private, which invited all manner of stupid speculation that didn't have to be proven one way or another.

Really CEDEF's bullshit had become more plausible since Basil took over but they could still be really fucking stupid about cover stories.

**Rifles**

"How good are you at making and using rifles? They as good as yer pistols?"

"Nearly so, old hack." Xanxus replied.

He was more practiced with pistols because he liked them better but he was damn accurate with a rifle. With a good rifle he could snipe for miles.

The Dying Will Bullets weren't as effective but one ambassador he had shot from over a mile and a half away proved they were effective against supposedly bullet-proof glass and the ambassador's head exploded all over a call-girl. It wasn't Colonnello's rifle but that monster weapon was something Xanxus had managed to get plans of and could therefore replicate if he wanted to. Theoretically. The technology for the scopes probably didn't exist here.

"Aiming to build up a reputation, then?"

"Idiots need to see superior weapons in action to buy them. I'm only going to make a few of them available for sale after all."

Barret, understanding both the genius and cruelty of the plan, had to laugh. He hadn't thought his home island was capable of raising such devious individuals anymore. Making those weapons to gain infamy and getting his name known as a quality but picky smith; prices for such quality weapons would skyrocket. The execution was bringing in lots of visitors, some with more cash than sense, some with equal amounts of both, and many more beyond potential customers to carry the tales away across all the world's oceans.

"I'm charging ya for materials and use of the forge this time. I've got my own business to run."

Xanxus gestured at his prize money. "That's not an issue meddlesome old man."

Paying the old man for use of materials was only fair, since he now had both cash and the means to make more.

**Content**

Unlike the forging of his pistol that could blend in with this dimension's tech, Xanxus could take his time on the rifle. The pistol was not meant to replace his X-guns, but to be his public weapon and 'front.' Using weaponry from his home dimension and getting noticed for it would bring all sorts of interesting factions after him. They couldn't use Flame Technology unless they had knowledge of Flames but his X-guns were not in the current style of weapons here. Though if he was here for long enough he might be able to change that...

Letting others have access to Flame Technology was something Xanxus found to be unacceptable. So having cutting edge weapons was fine, making them was also fine but having something beyond the capabilities of this world was not.

The World Government was only one of the superpowers of this world. There was probably at least one revolutionary force if not more in existence, some local but others maybe larger. He had also heard of the Yonko. Whitebeard, Kaido, Big Mom and Shiki. Although Shiki had been missing since he broke out of Impel Down a short while back, but that just made him more dangerous as he could be anywhere. Supposedly the remnants of Shiki's territory were holding out relatively well since the forces of the other three emperors were tangling with each other over who would get to move in on that territory first.

So Xanxus had to be content with making and wielding superior primitive weapons in public.

Bullets would take a while to be 'invented.' So he had to deal with this powder and shot bullshit.

**Bester**

His Box Animal was staying in its modified ring. The box weapon ring and the improved Varia Ring had traveled with him, but he hadn't let the Liger out since arriving here. Box Animals has some freaky physics that ruled them even with the oddness that was part of Flame Science and he wasn't entirely sure if it would work the same in this new universe with its not-quite-the-same physics.

So he could let Bester out, but it was better not to, since he wanted to stay on the down low. He didn't know if people here would be able to identify a flame-user for what they really were and Bester was both a beautiful animal and deadly weapon.

Later, when he was on his own and had paid his debt back to Rouge, he'd let Bester out and deal with the consequences. He just didn't want to do so now because of all the interesting and potentially dangerous people who might learn of such weapons. He hadn't wanted to do so prior to this trip because he didn't know enough about this world and that still took precedence. Maybe after he had settled into his own place...

He had to find one first though.

* * *

><p>Mostly filler. Sorry. The rifle needs to be made though.<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the superb Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Sunflower<strong>

The rifle, Xanxus named Elianto. He deliberately ignored its meaning in the language of flowers like he had Iride's. Xanxus was only naming them after flowers because he had recently run out of demons, appropriate deities and sins to name his custom works after. Those weapons may not be in this dimension but that didn't mean he was going to reuse names; that would be like saying he was replacing them.

Elianto, much like Iride, had an ornate design and decorations that changed the weapon into a functional and deadly work of art. Elianto's pattern was more tribal and harsh than Iride's classical fleur de lis, but it was the abstractness of the design that kept it from being excessively fucking floral.

Xanxus took his time in making Elianto, partly due to the fact he had made more pistols than he had rifles and partly due to how difficult it was to make, what with the barrel's length and the technological limits of his current location as well as the limits of his rented workshop in Loguetown.

He didn't care where Barret was except that he was away.

**Testing**

After one last check over his creation, Xanxus helped himself to some powder and shot.

He was getting fucking annoyed at having to use such an inferior method of propelling a projectile into a target since he knew that sending it into someone's flesh might even be fucking harder. He had seen some people wearing armor of all things in Lougetown and while browsing the medical books said alien human physiology was the same, there were plenty of stories about people shrugging off injuries and fighting on with ease. Hell, he had even done that himself.

That said, people could also dodge which made things even more difficult to determine the amount of powder needed. The amount of powder needed for each shot varied on the distance and the weight of the ammo and there were the physical limits of how much stress the barrel could take before heat from the explosions taking place could damage it. Bullets could do that too but the threshold was far higher. He could get maybe thirty consecutive powder-shots off before heat damage became a hazard. He could get ten times that in bullets, easy, before the same problem cropped up. Spent shells were wonderful heat sinks.

He was going to 'invent' bullets as soon as he was fucking able to. This powder and shot business was fucking ridiculous and took up way too much of his valuable time.

At least Elianto worked with no complications, but he still needed to get used to it and practice if he was going to establish a genius gunsmithing reputation for himself. Until he was used to these limited and primitive pieces of shit, he wouldn't be able to adjust everything that needed to be adjusted such as his fighting style, which was something that really had to be second nature if he was going to live here for any length of time.

As it stood Iride needed a partner and he was going to have to deal with damn cool-down periods unless he wanted the shitty guns to deteriorate even fucking further. Once bullets were 'invented' by him all of the guns he would be capable of making would feel less inferior to his own X-guns. Admittedly they really fucking were inferior to his X-guns, but the gap would seem less obvious then.

Until he decided to use his X-gun's Flame Technology, as that would make the difference really obvious.

**Contests**

"So, that's all the planned shooting contests here?" Xanxus asked as he broke down and cleaned Elianto.

There was a respectable stack of flyers laid out on the work bench. Reassembling his gun and cleaning his hands of gun oil on a napkin, Xanxus browsed through them. He made note of the times, locations and any fees and prizes mentioned. Some of them would be well attended and some were more elitist. There was even a 'Marines only' one he was tempted to crash. He couldn't do it as 'himself' but as a fresh recruit was certainly possible. Infiltration wasn't his specialty but he knew how to do it.

The door was then kicked open and Xanxus had Iride aimed at those who just broke it down. Noting a bit of resemblance between the three girls of varying ages standing outside and the aged gunsmith, Xanxus refrained from interfering in the clearly family argument. It was none of his business, though that didn't mean he wouldn't eavesdrop.

**Children**

Watching the argument was fairly informative. Apparently, Xanxus missed had them the last time he was here because they were running a con on the new arrivals to Lougetown since Barret's shop was closed more often than it was open apparently. Local and foreign criminals alike were enjoying the town like a criminal festival with appropriate amounts of bloodshed and chaos. The security was apparently shit when it came to enforcing public order.

The eldest and loudest in yelling her displeasure at her 'shitty old man' was apparently what would happen if someone ever crossed Squalo and Mammon's DNA and made them female. She was loud, crude, greedy and had a fondness for blades with long purple hair. All of that was evident within a few seconds of meeting her; she very clearly had no concept of subtlety.

The middle child reminded him of the Cloud Officer that had been 'retired' to marry for her famiglia, but with Bel's fashion sense. Her dark honey blond hair was in a neat bob that hid her eyes and she wore a tiny hat attached to the side of her head. She even had gloves on and Xanxus could tell that she had several weapons hidden on her, and a few that weren't hidden including a large dagger hanging in full view from her waist. They were well hidden but not professionally, like his were.

The last and youngest at was clearly the quiet 'lady' of the three. At least that's what the dress and posture said, despite the lack of puberty-related curves since she was tall enough to start that process alien or not. Slightly skinned knees and dirty gloves said that she was something of a klutz but the resignation on her face said she was stupid clumsy trash who couldn't be bothered to do better.

They could be cultivated into something though and Xanxus was thinking about actually doing so, since there was no telling how long he'd be stranded here, so he might as well get comfortable and build up a power-base. On the flip-side there really was no telling how long he'd be stuck here, so it would be a hell of a lot of extra work and he'd have to deal with and cultivate people that might not even pay off if he wasn't going to be stranded here long enough to get a decent return. Rouge already knew that there was a chance that he wouldn't come back but that was more of her thinking he left her to go out into the world instead of returning to his home dimension.

That's when the Squalo-ette noticed him. A bit late considering her sisters had noticed him -the one with concealed weapons even had her hands ready to draw them- before her but the eldest was very Storm-like in going straight for her father like that.

**Trap**

A few warning shots and an explanation later had the eldest at almost fifteen apologize to him for her unconsidered words. Xanxus did not appreciate what she said about him being 'friends' with her 'lazy-ass' father and being tarred with the same brush. Holding a smoking gun and informing the blinking brats that he was paying for the use of their father's workspace somehow made him more likable to the Squalo-ette.

The middle child then introduced them as 'Sammy, Cordelia and Melrose Clyde' and gave their ages. Sammy was still fourteen until mid-November, Cordelia who was thirteen and Melrose who was eleven.

Xanxus looked at the blond but greying gunsmith and said bluntly, "Your daughters all have different mothers." Unsaid was that Barret was a man-whore, but the older trash certainly understood the implied insult, as did the girls.

"Oh course we've all got different mothers! Do you really think any sort of ambition came from that side of the family?" The Squalo-ette pointed disgustedly to their father with sword in hand. "What woman would stay with that idiot asshole if they didn't have to?"

"I'm actually a boy." Melrose clarified. "And the cross-dressing was needed for the con."

Xanxus looked at the self-proclaimed boy, saw the delicate frame, well tended silvery-blond hair and large green eyes. He adjusted his assumptions accordingly; not clumsy but definitely not used to wearing a dress and moving in it like a lady would. He could draw more definite conclusions later.

"You're going to be such a trap when you get older." Xanxus remarked, not bothering to ask why the boy had let his sister put him in a dress in the first place. Squalo-ette did not look like someone who'd let her younger siblings cross her without suffering horribly for it.

Melrose nodded in resignation but could only sigh as he watched his eldest sister attempt to strangle their father for not actually opening the shop and taking advantage of all the business coming into Lougetown.

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><p>Rawr. OCs, but they're needed.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the faithful Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Chef<strong>

Xanxus didn't object to the offer of dinner because he obviously didn't have to pay for it and Barret had proved last week that his cooking was sufficiently superior to Xanxus' attempts to be worth sticking around for.

Admittedly Xanxus probably had improved recently from watching Rouge and reading her cookbooks out of sheer fucking boredom but his practice in the art was negligible. This was after finding that she kept her books in the oddest places; Rogue kept cookbooks in the kitchen cabinets next to the spice rack and the novels she was fond of that were in the lower mattress of her bed, which was levels beyond hiding them between the mattresses. Other novels, such as the romance books that any young well-educated woman somehow got their hands on were hidden on the shelves that had towels in the bathroom closet. The weirdest yet was Rouge's diary; that was hidden in with her gardening tools where it pretended to be a book she used for pressing flowers. Xanxus had also shamelessly read that.

Cordelia had dragged Sammy out to buy more groceries, ignoring Sammy's grumbles about useless fathers, inflated prices and other painfully domestic problems. Laundry had been mentioned, or the lack of it.

Melrose had taken the time to change into more masculine clothing, but amusingly it only made him look like a little girl borrowing her brother's cast-offs. The fact that he was cleaning the kitchen before using it only reinforced the 'girl in drag' idea since Barret hadn't cleaned up after himself while they were out.

Xanxus could spy his dish from the last time he was here in the sink, which was disgusting. Xanxus may not have had a domestic bone in his body but he had standards and was prepared to wash dishes if the alternative was having to put up with the smell of slowly rotting food and possible bugs. His childhood made him appreciative of a bug free residence. A lack of infestations period was preferable.

Once Melrose's older sisters had returned laden with edibles, most of them carried by the Squalette, Melrose took them and disappeared into the kitchen. Soon afterwards encouraging cooking smells and sounds began to emanate from the kitchen while the two daughters and father 'talked.' Actually it was more of the Squalette taking her father to task for failing to be a responsible gunsmith and shop-keep. Cordelia was deliberately silent and intent on sharpening and cleaning her weaponry, or at least the obvious ones. The Squalette's dressing down was pretty interesting, at least in terms of knowledge of the local market gained and how the influx of people and goods was throwing things into a flux, especially when coupled with all the scammers out there. She may have been a loud, crude piece of trash but she at least knew her stuff.

Surprisingly Melrose turned out to be a very capable chef despite being only eleven. He was on par with Rouge, who was one of the better cooks on the little island he'd been living on lately. It was loads better than ship fare too. The few restaurants on Baterilla were decent but what they could serve was rather limited due to it being a small port town. He had stolen a few bites here and there, while watching over Rouge but the food had been nothing special. A few places he had stopped at in Lougetown were good enough to eat but they were just for filling his stomach, not to enjoy.

Clearly, these three were going to have to be cultivated since they were proving worth it, even if there was no certainty that he'd be here long enough to wring enough benefits to outweigh the investment.

He was going to have to be sociable of all the fucking things. Lussuria would be so proud.

**Watch**

After leaving Elianto in his hotel room that he had broken into once again, Xanxus settled in to watch the Marine Base from yet another rooftop hide away, wearing his stolen marine recruit uniform and carrying an assortment of weapons and mist-made surveillance equipment.

The schedule was still the same, mind-numbingly repetitive and boringly stiff. Still, the uniformed on-duty officers were more alert than before, excited and tense with stress.

So, they finally had information about when the Pirate King would be in.

Here's to hoping that it wasn't just bait. He was going to go in later tonight anyway to snoop, but this would at least make it worth it so long as it wasn't bait.

**Office**

Borrowing an officer's uniform from the base's laundry unit, freshly cleaned, had been pretty easy; you'd think nobody had ever tried this before. He needed to see if they had a handbook or something for officers. They probably had all sorts of constricting regulations and memorizing them would help in later infiltrations of the organization if they proved necessary. The problem was that this was a military base, which meant he had to deal with the bureaucratic bullshit all military forces seemed bogged down with.

Looking like he belonged in the Marines was actually stupidly easy. His hair was brushed flat, his hair decorations gone, a pair of fake glasses and a small cocky smirk smirk on his lips. The scar on his face was covered with gauze and a bandage. He even got saluted as he strode by, moving as though he had every right to be there.

He was called into an office and responded with an air of self-entitled reluctance, before the higher-up gave him a batch of paperwork he was working on late. Apparently, he didn't trust any marine below a certain rank not to fuck up with delivering the papers to the appropriate office.

That office was apparently pretty high-up, and browsing the papers he could tell that it was just inventory notations and patrol schedules and other things that had to be signed off by a superior to become official. Something nice to know but not particularly relevant unless he wanted to steal the supplies here in the next few weeks. He might consider it as some of the supplies looked interesting, especially the apparently standard Marine-issue weapons that various ranks had to carry. He'd have to see if they were just itemized or it this world had serial numbers yet. Serial numbers would take faking paperwork and a lot of bullshit to steal it unnoticed.

He knocked on the appropriate door in a sharp knock to warn whoever was in the office that he was there.

**Conversation**

The official gestured to his desk to place the papers, as he was in the middle of a den-den mushi conversation with Garp's ship. Apparently Garp the Hero was coming to Lougetown, and would be in soon. The official with the mustache confirmed the day they were expected to be in and made a notation on a piece of paper.

Having not been dismissed, Xanxus shamelessly eavesdropped on the continued conversation and read the log noting the times and ships that would be in with an assassin's ease at being unnoticed. He still found those snail things fucking creepy though. An actual phone would be much appreciated, but then he'd only get to hear half of the conversation so he could deal with the fucking weirdness.

Garp the Hero was, according to Rouge, one of Roger's favored rivals who was always up for a fight and a chase. He also had a genuine caring heart and was trying to make the world a better place by putting away the more evil criminals. Garp along with Whitebeard -whose real name Xanxus still didn't know- were two of the rivals spoken of fondly.

Shiki, while clearly powerful, had an ambition to take over the world which was a rather stupid goal and an indication of both inadequacy issues and terminal shortsightedness. The existence of the World Government said it was theoretically possible to rule the world but you needed the right people to take over the world properly. You also had to have an actual organization that could function long-term and one hell of an advantage over the other side, as Byakuran had proved in that alternate future. Byakuran fucking cheated like mad by viewing alternate futures and predicting shit; that the Varia and the Vongola was still around ten years later even with that unbelievable advantage was a testament to the strength of the Varia, oh and the Sawada-brat and his guardians too more or less.

Rouge's tales of Roger, provided they were true, proved that Roger was one of the strongest individuals around in this dimension, even with his illness. Old newspapers and gossip in Lougetown only added further evidence to that claim.

His shameless eavesdropping allowed him to find both the actual place the Pirate King was currently, where he would be at what time and the projected arrival times of the numerous fakes that would be converging on Lougetown with various other high-ranking officials.

**Timing**

As Xanxus expected, the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger was going to be in Lougetown for as short a time as possible. The Marines might have stupid sitting around at the very top of their hierarchy but there was an efficient system in place for making stupid work for them. It proved the higher-ranks were actually competent and had quite a bit of patience and intelligence to deal with the shit those Tenryubito trash shoveled their way. Clearly not enough to just go ahead and kill the over-bred leeches but some trash was stupidly forgiving like that. Of course brainwashing the troops and careful selection of officers for the highest positions probably stopped the _really_ smart ones from making it to the top, so as to prevent coups like that from taking place. Pity, that.

On the 8th Roger was going to reach Lougetown during the night and be transferred over to the base in the pre-dawn hours of the 9th. Then on the morning of the 10th he was going to be brought out of the base to the execution stand and be killed.

Knowing that there was no fucking way he would be able to infiltrate the base on the 9th because the place would be full of highly alert enemies, that left the 8th as his window of opportunity, such as it was. He was going to have to sneak out onto a ship that would be far away from the docks and probably had its own watches posted against possible attempts of boarding.

Fuck this was going to suck. Flying was totally out for stealth reasons, swimming was stupid, taking a boat was also fucking stupid since the port was likely going to lit up like it was fucking daylight to make sure there were no last minute attempted rescues by members of Roger's crew. Shiki's attempt on Impel Down and subsequent escape had already been a big enough of an incident for them to be strict with the security. Roger's crew had a few other infamous 'monsters' on it that they were equally worried about. Silvers Rayleigh, for instance.

To use a comparison of strength, these monsters they were worried about were probably on the level of an Acrobaleno complete with an almost as monstrous famiglia backing them as crew. He had no doubt that Reborn or Fon couldn't defeat a nation's army with ease by themselves. Fon had smacked his officers down with contemptuous ease back during the Representation Battle and Fon had to adjust to his full height as a handicap. Then there was Jager, who had cut off his arm and nearly hacked his legs off. Lussuria was easily able to heal his legs and reattach his arm, so he had come out ahead of Squalo who had needed to have his heart replaced since it had gotten fucked up beyond repair when Jager nearly killed him. Jager's short-warping bullshit was absurd, much like the Devil Fruits of this dimension so some of these 'monsters' might be capable of equally absurd fucking feats. He didn't know much about Devil Fruits but clearly they weren't all powerful since Roger, Rayleigh and Garp were all uncursed individuals; normal didn't apply to those that could only be described as monsters in human form.

Then the light turned out and the officer walked out of his office and locked Xanxus in. The oblivious officer had forgotten about him, assuming that he had left the office earlier despite him standing in almost plain sight.

Xanxus was far from impressed by the Marines so far but they hadn't lost to the pirates yet, so he clearly hadn't met the ones he was supposed to be wary of yet. He'd get to assess Garp soon though, and that would be... interesting.

* * *

><p>Oh, look, there's the plot again.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the hard-working Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Advantage<strong>

Since he had been locked in the office, Xanxus saw no reason to not take advantage of it and read the material available without leaving a trace or having to worry about being disturbed. He had no idea if this world was capable of fingerprinting or even knew it was possible, but it was best to leave no evidence at all when leaving something after having searched it. Gloves were wonderful things to prevent things like that. It was an informative read, but nothing of any real value without further research and contemplation of how it fitted in to the big picture.

He hadn't even noticed any cameras, or to be honest, the den-den mushi that functioned as such in the office. How fucking trusting. Then again, this was East Blue, which meant it was the most pathetic and weakest sea according to gossip. Xanxus took this to be generally true, but clearly a few individuals had potential that was later honed elsewhere since East Blue lacked the challenges the other Blues probably had. The other Blues had more strife, unrest and reasons to get strong than peaceful East Blue.

So since he was here, he might as well read up on the marines from the source and get everything he needed forged, forged now and put away in the right places. Unlike the mafia the Marines were a bureaucracy, who instead of hand-penned letters and unique signals just had to sign off on things since everything else was type-set with a few things written here and there. It was all standardized forms and tick boxes, which would have made the job easier if there hadn't been so damn much of it needing to be done.

Forging an identity, learning Marine protocol and the like was not what he had expected to do with his night, but this was an unexpected opportunity and it was better to be prepared than not.

**Archive**

Creating a fake identity required research, especially if you wanted to establish it as having been around for a while. This was made so much harder by the lack of worldly knowledge he had. He was working on correcting the problem but other people had years to learn that crap and he'd barely had a few months, most of which he'd spent on some provincial backwater. Google was something these people couldn't even conceive of, much less make possible.

He would have to make said identity from East Blue but who to put himself under? Also how to avoid having actual responsibilities yet provide himself with a solid alibi? Detached duty and confidential would have to work, plus he could be put on payroll for doing absolutely nothing so long as he set up an account and backdated everything, so breaking into the bank was something he needed to do before payday, which was post-execution. The absurdity of the den-den mushi actually worked in his favor as money could be 'transferred' from bank to bank and didn't seem to be all that secure. There was a system for how much the banks would pull in and out of service to keep the economy stable but Xanxus didn't know much about that shit. Bucking Horse probably would have figured it all out by now, but that's because that guy was a market genius and enjoyed all the tedious financial details and working the economic systems for his benefit.

He was going under Garp, since Rouge said Roger had told her that Garp wasn't the brightest around. His second -and Xanxus knew there would be one- would be the sharp one, who just had to go with what the boss decided and make sure it worked. There was a lot that could be slipped in like that if Garp was as impulsive as his third-hand knowledge said he was, especially if certain bits of paperwork was not only 'old' but 'lost.' The second would probably know better from sheer memory alone if they were any good but Garp had likely recruited then lost a vast amount of men through his command over the years. So his identity was going to be as old as he was with the years he was trapped in the ice counting this time, putting him in his early thirties. It really wasn't hard to look that in less than a minute even without Mist Flames.

Faking paperwork and mission experience was rather easy but tedious, as he had to file every last thing away and fake even more signatures. Bloody fucking triplicate. A few things he out and out copied from other files, although it wouldn't be hard to prove if they spotted it tomorrow but in a few years when such a thing was likely to finally be noticed... it would be hard. Paper did deteriorate over time, but this was a messy forge, not an impeccably planned one with aged paper and ink.

People here were really fucking trusting if they hadn't set up systems to guard against such a thing as he was doing here. Well that or nobody had ever been bright enough to set up properly organised crime that lasted longer than a single generation. Stability seemed something that most criminal organizations here had issues with -generally due to piracy or marine influence- but even if they were stable didn't mean they were good or smart. The local mafia was an embarrassment to the name of mafia, after all.

**Profile**

His new identity had him from a small island town that the records described as peaceful and prosperous... and destroyed nearly two decades ago by a pirate attack. He even copied a few criminal records into it, showing a disregard for authority. His fictional self had firmer morals than his real self since most of them were ruled as self-defense and notations about issues with authority, particularly authority that lacked similar morals.

He couldn't be absolutely sure that the ruling officers of the cases were all dead, but a bit of research proved that a few were and so those were the officers that handled his disregard for authority and the like. Research also proved that the officers had similar cases under them like his, although he lacked the knowledge to know what sort of political party or agenda they might have been pushing could be damning later. He just didn't know enough about the hierarchy to know if it would really matter either.

He had served two tours under some dead officers on the Grand Line prior to Garp, which he copied out a list of islands from so he could research in more detail later, and under a few other officers in South Blue following 'injury' to explain his old scars. His most recent tour of duty had been under Garp back when the Pirate King was active and turning the world upside down in the New World; Garp had gone through a lot of seamen and a rather disturbing number of officers in that time, most of them rotated out due to injuries in just a few months. He added himself to that list too, since he did have an awful lot of scars for just one injury. After that he had been on detached duty for at least a year. He even put it up to the current rank his uniform had, putting the promotions in after the injuries and tours. Notably most of those who had promoted him, Xanxus had confirmed as dead previously so it worked out for him as made sure to not make a stupid mistake like getting promoted by an officer that was dead before the promotion took place.

His name was one that he had used before while traveling incognito, so responding to it wouldn't be that hard.

**Bank**

Setting up financial records was harder than the marine records, even though breaking out of the Marine Base and into the bank had been a cake walk. More of it was handwritten, it was likely checked much more often and there were lots of little checks to prevent fraud. As his new identity had been working for the marines for nearly a decade, he had nearly a decade of financial records to fake in ways that wouldn't be picked up on and a decent-sized bank balance with accompanying financial records to show what he spent the money on.

This was a lot more difficult as Xanxus never enjoyed playing with numbers like this. It irritated him far too much and budget meetings caused nightmares of numbers running wild in his head. He left this shit to Mammon, who enjoyed every minute of it.

The financial system of the Varia worked to pay for everything they needed or wanted but that didn't make it simple; there were commission fees, hazard pay, injury pay, uniform costs, paychecks to the housekeeping staff, weapon costs, food supplies, specialized purchases for whatever purpose and remodeling as needed. Admittedly most people learned that appealing to Mammon was a lost cause so there was actually a form for supply requests out of the general budget, as each individual division had its own budget that Mammon also oversaw to prevent fraud and stupid spending. Xanxus being the boss could overrule Mammon in that area if needed but most of the Varia was sensible enough to include persuasive reasons for their purchase. Personal spending was a different story and they could do whatever the fuck they liked with their money.

Still, this wasn't the first time he had cooked someone's books before, so he knew what to do. Surprisingly the accounting systems and the like were exactly the same as in his home dimension from what he could tell. It made his night's work surprisingly easy for all that it was slowly getting bright by the time he had everything set up just so and had to leave.

**Security**

Xanxus broke back into his hotel room. The security on the hotel was weak, but it wasn't too terrible compared to what it might have been. Admittedly, it was Xanxus who had trapped his windows but at least the windows were of a kind that made trapping them properly possible. In this dimension everyone seemed to be idiots where personal and financial security were concerned.

He didn't have much planned for tomorrow. His marine persona needed weapons, but those could wait until a few days before the 7th. Today, he needed sleep and once he'd done that he could study the pregnancy and medical books he had bought and just generally get himself ahead on sleep and be lazy.


	16. Chapter 16

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the ardent Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Bliss<strong>

_Pregnancy_, Xanxus decided after two hours of skim-reading and four moderately scientific books on the subject, _was something men were not supposed to deal with unless they were crazy enough to want to be doctors_.

He had already known the relative basics that any assassin needed to know. How it happened, who to tell if it did and how to prevent it -the methods, what worked, and what was preferred because the lady is likely lying about birth control- with a generous sprinkle of 'beware of assassins' and 'avoid STDs for this is how they kill you in embarrassing and disgusting ways.' He also knew the more general knowledge that related to mood-swings, morning sickness and crazy cravings as that was something else that everyone who had ever done business with married men knew about because even Mafia business small-talk included talking about wives and kids.

Xanxus, not trusting the hedge doctor on Baterilla even as far as the so-called Neo Primo could throw him without Flames had obtained a number of books about a topic that he'd rather remain blissfully ignorant of. Honestly, he wasn't sure if an honor debt was worth the craziness that he'd apparently have to deal with soon, one which could only be magnified and complicated by stress and the potential tyrannical actions of the World Government.

Rumors of Roger's lover and child had been spreading since he had arrived at least, if not before so if they were like any government with sense, they'd have their covert types looking for the unfortunate woman. Even if they were a dumb-fuck tyrannical regime they'd be looking for her, just doing it less subtly.

Yeah, the honor debt was still compelling him. Fuck. This was what happened when you were raised to be honorable, respectful and sensible of what things cost; you ended up in situations like this one where the only way out was to do shit that destroyed your self-respect. Being head of the assassination squad meant he could generally turn that shit down for some reason or another; if not he could always delegate.

Xanxus categorically refused to be a coward and duck out of his responsibilities so he learned about how the fetus developed week by week, the endocrines -hormones- involved which turned into a refresher on a lady's menses and how immunity to disease was passed on. Then there were the possible complications of pregnancy and the birth, sudden allergies, how to deal with the child being a different blood type, potential birth defects both genetic and cosmetic and the more common genetic disorders of this dimension although this world put them down as 'inherited illnesses' and the like which showed DNA was unknown here.

Then there were books about the development in childhood, with the typical milestones of crawling and speaking and walking and when those usually happened and the typical reasons for them either happening early or late, which led into different kinds of intelligence and learning styles which was at least something Xanxus knew about already. He had to know how to train new Varia recruits properly, along with a good amount of practical psychology which prevented little psychos like Bel from slipping his leash and going crazy on some random famiglia for all that Bel really wasn't that crazy. Yes, Bel was crazy and assuredly psychopathic but he was _smart_ about it which made him a different level of dangerous and even more difficult to handle. It was not an exaggeration to call the Varia, an insane asylum for serial killers.

In short, while ignorance was bliss he was not going to let his or someone else's ignorance kill his charge. Well, charges, since there was Rouge and then Rouge Junior; someone had to admit that having a girl child was possible and it clearly wasn't the rest of the world doing so.

**Market**

Information about pregnancy and how to go about delivering a child swimming in his head having killed his appetite for the time being, Xanxus decided to skip lunch. He'd just have to eat more for dinner since he didn't have any stake-outs until the Pirate King's ship came in, unless he wanted to stalk some of the higher-up marines when they arrived.

Xanxus, being Xanxus decided to make good use of his time and go and browse some of the stalls to see the wares displayed. As the execution approached the market had expanded and became louder, but Xanxus could deal with the noise. Squalo and Levi arguing could get pretty loud, since they were easily heard over the explosions that such arguments generally involved. The only quiet arguer of the Varia's Officers was Lussuria who would _insist_ on things; Bel screeched at the top of his lungs and Mammon tended towards the same with more flashy and destructive illusions involved. Despite being illusions, they registered as being loud in the brain for all that they made no actual sound.

He did find a few more decent-looking hair ornaments and a very nice selection of feathers, some of them larger and sturdier than he'd ever seen before. The ones he was wearing were looking more than a bit tired and scraggly for their repeated dips in the ocean, but the ones being sold hadn't been treated to become flame-resistant. That, Xanxus decided firmly, could come later and he paid for a varied selection. It would be a good exercise and enable him to determine how materials native to this dimension reacted to Flames. He couldn't do this on Baterila due to not being known and the lack of materials to test on unless he wanted to leave evidence of his existence.

He wanted to be able to make Dying Will Bullets or else he only had the two clips in his X-guns and the two other clips in his jacket to use. That was not nearly enough if he ever got into an extended fight.

**Auction**

While browsing through the market, he found a few people talking about an auction for unique unsold wares to be held after the execution. An up-scale auction that was being assembled for the people who were turning the event into an opportunity for a business trip.

Well, now he knew where he was going to sell a few extra guns at to expand his infamy after a few more shooting contests. Even with paying for material and rent fees to Barret, he would most likely seriously rake in the money especially since he was soon going to get paid for doing nothing by the Marines as well as his other criminal activities should he find appropriate targets for them. The currency's name was still fucking stupid but money was money and money kept the world moving.

Plus auctions were wonderful places to make connections and gain possible future clients. He found the people in charge of assembling the auction and signed up to sell a few guns of his that he'd need to make before the execution came around. He didn't do it as himself, thanks to a bit of Mist Flames disguising him, which really helped to cement the image he wanted to present.

Attending the auction wouldn't be that bad either, he knew how to act so he just needed a suit for it. This year's Varia uniform looked like one, but if these more affluent citizens were anything like as snobbish as he knew they probably would be, they would pick up on how comfortably broken in the uniform actually was and overlook its obvious quality to downgrade him to a craftsman rather than a businessman. Craftsmen got paid for commissions but they were still part of the servant class; people paid businessmen for the privilege of associating with them in the hope that some of their success would rub off.

Plus if he did it right, he could sell the idea of rifling, create an arms company and really rake in the cash.

**Suit**

Finding the okama that had previously made his more practical clothing that was capable of concealing knives and other things with ease wasn't that hard. His shop was still there and open.

Getting measured for a suit wasn't as big of a chore as Xanxus thought it would be. The okama still fussed over his health but wasn't as flamboyantly annoying as Lussuria, keeping interactions at an acceptably professional level.

There were no 'be nicer, boss-honey' or 'don't kill the recruits!' which had always made Xanxus' trigger finger itch, especially if Xanxus was in charge of teaching the recruits for a day which had usually only happened through a divine comedy of scheduling errors or Bel attacking the instructors and then disappearing on a mission when everyone else qualified was _busy_. Lussuria was generally needed then to heal them after. Lussuria actually better at healing than he was as fighting but that didn't mean he didn't like a fight or killing, especially to get the type of bodies he liked.

It took a strong stomach to brave Lussuria's room filled with very life like and well-preserved corpses which was creepy and made only more so since Lussuria's sexual inclination tended to dead but young athletic, pretty boys, who were well-preserved enough that their wounds looked fresh. Xanxus didn't know how but assumed it had to deal with the Sun Flame's attribution of 'activation' that had the corpses move and carry out tasks like making and serving tea. Most excused themselves as quickly as possible once they discovered that; Xanxus won Lussuria's loyalty by staying two extra hours, not batting an eyelash as Lussuria's 'toys' served them and actually being able to eat while in Lussuria's room.

Still, this okama was not nearly as creepy despite the fondness for fishnet and make-up. It went without saying that he would be able to hide numerous weapons on him without so much as a wrinkle in the fabric of his new suit.

**Work**

When he arrived at Barret's home he found Melrose in an apron scrubbing the place down.

"Oh, hello. Cordelia cleaned and put new material in the workshop. I'm having to decontaminate this place so bugs aren't drawn in. Sammy is making our father mind the shop so don't worry about either of them bothering you. Dinner will be later tonight, around eight or so. If you are still around you're welcome to join."

Xanxus nodded because he suddenly couldn't find it in him to speak without mentioning Melrose's questionable masculinity and trap status. He also found himself wondering if the Sawada brat would have been like this had his father not been in the CEDEF dragging his son into the mafia, which somehow followed into pondering if Mafia ladies wanted to marry men like this so that they could keep up their work and leave the kids with a house-husband. Everyone knew that Lal had Colonello catering to her every whim. His former Cloud Officer certainly wanted one too, but with the idea of her husband actually being strong enough to make protect her and the kids should she be incapacitated or expecting. Two people was not a large enough sample group for an actual conclusion.

The Sawada brat's perfect failure on a school test during the Representative Battle had made gossip rounds so clearly the brat couldn't manage an actual legal job worth anything so he'd have to be a house-husband; a male version of his mother who at least had the whole 'Japanese Nadeshiko' thing going for her.

Being defeated by a brat that pathetic was humiliating but eight years in ice and still reeling from the Ninth's lies did not make him very sane during the Ring Battles. The ice fucked with your head in ways that were fucking hard to explain or comprehend at the time. Sure, the entire affair was contrived but Xanxus had to make it real to everyone else, which meant throwing himself into the role to fool Reborn and the rest. He also had live with the defeat, rigged as it was and thus why Xanxus ignored the rule of 'loser serves winner.' Not, that the whole thing being rigged made his 'defeat' easier to live with.

The only benefit of that Ring Battle mess beyond making the Sawada-shit accept his position was talking with the former bosses in the Sky Ring which at least straightened his head out well enough for him to not fall deep into delusional insanity like his mother did all those years ago. Not that the bosses could make the rejection process less painful but seeing the Ottava take her son to task for being a horrible father and the previous bosses for being fucking horndogs and not keeping track of their bastard's bastards and failing to take care of family. Despite rumors outside the family, Ricardo was fiercely loyal to his wife; it was his Sun Flame son of the same name who had a lady in every city and gentleman's establishment.

That's when the Primo and Secundo decided that he was likely descended from Ricardo's side of the family, possibly his half-sister who had later disappeared with her family when the Vongola changed hands but that would take a lot of research to confirm. Ricardo's half-sister and a number of his siblings were born after his father remarried and it was through the father that Secundo and Primo were related. Just because Gitto and Ricardo had the famed intuition and Sky Flames, didn't mean that other more distant relatives didn't either, but they weren't _Vongola_ either.

According to Ottava, most bastards dropped off the grid and made a new life somewhere else and were quick to run from mafia involvement since it was dangerous. There were around twenty other possible heirs that Ottava knew of during her time but the majority were illegitimate or lacked the proper flame nature. It was getting harder to run and hide in modern times but it was possible, as Xanxus knew from a few assassinations that were given to the Varia because the family that wanted whoever dead couldn't find them. Generally, those cases went to those with hacking and information gathering talents who were as capable detectives as they were assassins.

Cutting short his musings of a wandering mind he decided he needed to get to work. At least working on a pair of pistols would focus him. These would be simpler without a lot of the ornamentation that was on his previous works since he was going to be selling them and didn't want anybody he didn't know and approve of to have anything near as good as he'd be using himself. It would be better than what was on the market in this dimension but still not as good as Iride or Elianto.


	17. Chapter 17

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the thoughtful Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Good<strong>

Making a pair of pistols to sell didn't take nearly as long as it might have done since he wasn't feeling in a decorative mood. Some decoration ended up on them anyway but they weren't works of art like Iride and Elianto could be considered to be if you were into that kind of damn thing. They were functional though, and he had tested them to prove it. They were a bit more clumsy than Iride and slightly less accurate, as he'd not been as thorough in rifling the barrels, but they were still considerably superior to any random gun in this dimension he'd seen so far.

Naming them was relatively easy. One was Alga and the other was Muschio. Seaweed and Moss. They were clearly designed as a pair, which was evident even to complete fucking idiots as their few decorations were the inverse of each other.

After cleaning them, he cleaned himself up and joined the Clydes for dinner.

Melrose might be more girly looking than both the CEDEF-trash and Sawada-brat, but he clearly wasn't even half as useless.

**Return**

Xanxus actually walked back to his hotel and entered his room the normal way, to the visible surprise of the keeper of the key and guest book downstairs.

Admittedly, Xanxus reflected, this was the only time he hadn't broken into his hotel room aside from the first day, when he had rented the rooms until today, which was a week before the Pirate King's scheduled death. After another shower, he decided that he needed to browse the market for possible materials for not only Dying Will Bullets but for Flame Technology in general. Unfortunately that would be a specialized market unlikely to be open at this hour due to the minerals and components required and it would be fucking expensive too. The Vongola had a number of quarries and mines for a reason.

Dying Will Bullets were practically 'magic bullets' and could have a variety of effected depending on the flames used on them, seeing as they took on the characteristics of the flames that activated them. Reborn's usage of them as a training tool was only possible due to his Sun Flames as he activated the components in the bullet and the healing factor so that not even a sign of the entry wound was even visible while sending his victims hard into Dying Will Mode.

Xanxus' own use of his Flames of Wrath led to them being purely destructive, but experimenting with harmonizing his Sky Flames and bringing out other attributes led him to discover that using pure Sky Flames or Lightning Flames was generally a waste of ammunition unless working with a seriously sub-par borrowed or stolen weapon, which would melt after a few uses anyway.

Pure Sky Flames made the bullets faster, while Lightning Flames increased piercing power. Cloud Flames could make a hail of bullets and were best paired with an automatic weapon. Rain Flames made the bullet act as a tranquilizer, to an extent. Sun Flames were ideal for activating Dying Will Mode which was only good to introduce people to their flames or cause random chaos, which he suspected was something Reborn did just for the entertainment factor sometimes, especially since the way the victim's clothes vanished was an extra feature that had to be added deliberately. Reborn had too much control over his flames for him not to.

Storm Flames made the bullets explosive on contact or with a bit more control could dissolve through bullet proof glass with ease. Mist Flames had no obvious effect on a target, but using them when shooting an unfortunate victim proved that they could drive a person insane without obvious cause, or kill them without a physical sign, so they were a 'real' magic bullet. From what Lussuria's and Mammon's look-see at the man who'd been their test subject, there was no actual bullet to be found and the bullet did activate a Dying Will but of the Mist variety and left it active and uncontrolled. It resulted in the person lobotomizing themselves while killing themselves of exhaustion and another Mist Bullet led to the discovery that the intent of the shooter could make the Mist Bullet not even leave an entry wound but still do extensive internal damage.

Dressed casually, with a few new feathers in his hair, Xanxus left his hotel room via the door again -for the novelty value- to venture to an up-class pub. No offense to Melrose's cooking skill but he wanted something to drink and Barret's three children were not ones for buying alcohol. Mentioning the lack of it at dinner had Sammy saying she didn't like hang-overs and Melrose was too young. Cordelia's general demeanor had just turned more frosty and disproving.

Xanxus interpreted her behavior as her mother having turned into an alcoholic bitch after her birth since Cordelia didn't have any of the signs of fetal alcohol syndrome which happened in this dimension too. It had happened often enough in the slums where he was born and since it happened here as well it seemed that the 'human condition' wasn't bound by dimensional boundaries.

He waved to the woman manning the counter as he went by, freaking her out judging by the radiating tension and klutzy fall. He just didn't want to break out of his hotel room at the moment and since he had to mind his manners he was going to take his amusement where he could fucking get it.

**Drink**

He found a higher class bar easily enough. His wallet might scream at him for the extravagance but he wouldn't have to deal with the noise, vulgarity and friendly overtures from people he'd rather shoot like he would find in a port side pub. In a higher class bar he could at least be reasonably certain to be able to drink in peace.

Finding a bar was easy enough, since you only had to look for a business that was lit up, didn't advertise itself as a brothel and was relatively discreet. He was avoiding visiting a 'gentleman's club' at the moment, since he wasn't sure what sort of people were there. Nobles were supposed to be 'gentlemen' but he hadn't needed to meet Bel to know that most were snobs and assholes. A lot of little mini-bosses to be that he was supposed to make nice with once upon a time were the same but thought they were justified in looking down on him for having a whore for a mother for all that they didn't say it.

He'd been able to teach most of them otherwise; a perk of being Vongola and Mafia royalty by adoption even if he lacked the proper lineage. Four hundred years, a lot of secrets and the ease it was for people to disappear in the past made proving or disproving lineage a lot harder. It wasn't like all of Gitto's or Ricardo's relatives became Vongola either, for all that Ricardo's descendants controlled the Sky Ring for eight generations. Hell, after the Acrobaleno Representative Battle where it was revealed that not-humans -dubbed Flame People- existed and could breed with people made him suspect that one of them had possibly fathered the Vongola lineage, or even himself; testing for what amounted to fucking alien DNA had fascinated Verde who had thrown himself into the research of such a thing.

There were plenty of reasons he liked leading the Varia beyond the fact that it terrified too many to gossip about him. Assassins were at least honest if fucking weird in how they showed how they liked or didn't like you. Generally the Varia was professional enough so they weren't off-ing each other for all that Lussuria really took the cake in weirdness; he only flirted with people he didn't like as a person and mothered those he did. What Lussuria did with the bodies of those he flirted with was a different story but he did like them much more as his personal dolls instead of being people.

Finding a nice corner table, he signaled for a glass and a bottle.

**Interruption**

Xanxus never liked to be interrupted when doing anything. From sleeping to eating to drinking to fighting, he liked to take his time, savor it, do it properly and wrap up afterwards to his satisfaction. He was surprisingly methodical about it. He blamed those damn endless tutors and time spent as a street brat with a whore mother. Xanxus had very proper and polite table manners when he wanted to use them, especially for a former slum brat who didn't know when his next meal would be or what it would be.

Call it an acquired quirk or single-mindedness but he had always thoroughly enjoyed every meal so long as it was edible. Xanxus' pickiness was later acquired just to be difficult to deal with, as it suited him and kept people on their toes around him. A boss who was too accessible wasn't feared and in the Mafia it was good to be loved but it was better if they feared you too.

So when what seemed to be a bar-crawling crew of pirate trash and assorted scum staggered their way inside with their noise, rudeness and lack of respect for their fellow customers Xanxus was not happy. What little good humor he'd managed to hold on to evaporated when they grabbed the suitably professional barkeep who was bringing Xanxus his next bottle and fucking stole his drink.

Those fucking pieces of shit.

**Takedown**

Despite having drunk by this point two entire bottles of hard liquor, Xanxus was still able to outclass and destroy any ideas of a good time that collection of trash might have had, along with numerous bones and the integrity of their internal organs. He then robbed them blind for good measure and ensured every last one had a concussion at the very least and the bastard drink-thief had a skull fracture.

Borrowing the bar's den-den mushi, he called for a squad of Marine mooks to take out the trash and drop it in the bay. Admittedly there was a bit more conversation than that in which he identified himself with his new marine alias and details about where he was at so the mooks could become human trash collectors. Since he'd gone to the trouble of establishing an alias he may as well give it a bit more credibility. There was a bit on why the fuck he was even there in which Xanxus told them to stuff it since he was looking forward to seeing 'that devil bastard' get what was coming to him on his personal time.

Xanxus then handed the den-den mushi back to the barkeep, got his bill, paid it and a bit extra for the trouble and walked off. He wasn't going to stick around for mooks to gawk at. Bad enough that the few customers still hanging around had eyes popping out of their skulls in a way that was giving him the creeps.

These dimensional aliens might suffer from the human condition, call themselves that but it still didn't make them human in ways he was used to. Selective breeding in isolated populations could account for a few things but some seemingly common traits here weren't fucking natural at all.

Those scientists should prepare for absolute fucking Hell, when he gets back.


	18. Chapter 18

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the caring Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Roof<strong>

Having left the bar, marginally richer since the human trash he had beat actually had some money on them but still in an ill mood. He really didn't want to be around people. Being an assassin, this meant finding a place high up to properly examine this strange sky from. Besides he was in the Northern Hemisphere of this world now, since he was in East Blue, which meant new stars. Different skies to what he'd got used to in South Blue, so a little review was needed if only to test how well he had learned the knowledge.

Since there was so little land available, this world emphasized navigation in a way that would be almost absurd if it hadn't been so very needed for trade and travel to exist. GPS did not exist here and maps were often dubious in quality and accuracy to varying degrees depending on their age and source. The position of the stars, the trade winds and currents were considerably more reliable, at least in the Blues.

If he was ever going to travel by himself in this world, he'd need to be able to recall this knowledge as swiftly and easily as he could already bring to mind weapon specifics or fine print in mafia trade agreements. In short, he was going to learn seriously old school nautical navigation because not only was his old knowledge of of such things not entirely relevant and not really up to par, the stars were completely different so all the navigation-related knowledge was useless. His bushman knowledge was practically worthless on the ocean, even as 'forgiving' as the Blues were. His near drowning twice in South Blue proved that 'forgiving' was not tolerant of stranded ignorant unfortunates who'd never seriously sailed before. Cruising on a yacht was not the same.

The Grand Line was by all accounts a hundred times worse and not just for the obviously turbulent nature of the sea. In the Grand Line, one of the reasons no one had made an accurate chart of the long but rather narrow belt of sea was that some islands were death traps and thus couldn't be mapped -or no one had survived doing so.

He did know that the Red Line caused the compasses on board ships to go crazy and be put away to spin uselessly so clearly the distinct magnetic field thing existed, along with the 'seasonal' islands despite how illogical it seemed. Those made no fucking sense to him, but they existed so clearly there was a reason beyond this dimension being a weird watery hell. Maybe something to do with microclimes exacerbated by local energy fields? He really didn't know enough to have an educated guess about the strangeness this world was infused with.

The other reason no one had made an accurate map of the Grand Line was that it was ever-changing. Some islands moved -plausible but disturbing- and others had been destroyed or had only popped up recently -also plausible but disturbing- and some were altered beyond recognition by clashes between titanic powers and cursed powers -again plausible but disturbing. The Grand Line made no fucking sense to him, but it clearly had some sort of sick logic behind everything that kept everything going.

Despite the lights throughout the town the amount of light pollution was far less than what he was used to, probably due to the lack of fluorescent and LEDs. He allowed the sight to relax him and then started reviewing the constellations and stars in his head. He actually knew some of the local names for various constellations now, though he privately thought what he'd come up with himself from their shapes were far better.

**Search**

After breaking into his hotel room and sleeping, Xanxus emerged the next morning in time for breakfast. He was keeping up with eating properly since a lot of the nutrition things crossed dimensions, including how certain foods were better for you than others. Reading through the newspaper -more about how people were excited to be rid of Roger, worries about attempts to rescue him, worries about the amount of malcontents pouring into Lougetown changing their town's former peaceful nature forever- was moderately entertaining. The last article earned a snort, since a town that had produced a crazy guy like Roger clearly wasn't as peaceful as the deluded author of the article thought. Then again, maybe the place was so damn boring because the crazies couldn't stand staying and left as soon as they could.

Still it would be too early in the day to search for Flame compatible materials, but he could at least research crystals and stones. Metal compositions were the same here as back home, as his time borrowing Clyde's workshop proved.

Unfortunately, the bookshop he entered was owned was run by a husband and wife pair and he had met the husband previously when he had been buying those pregnancy books. The husband had gossiped, so the wife was under the delusion that since he had gotten some girl pregnant he was going to do the honorable thing and marry her. Xanxus was not sure if he wanted to actually enlighten her or have her go along with the fictional story being written in her head. At least they didn't know his real face.

Deciding that correcting her would be more trouble than it was worth and that would require him to make up some other plausible story, he told her that he was a metalsmith -true in a fashion- and wanted to make his own rings -also true in a sense. So he needed to know more about stones, crystals and the like. The lady of the bookstore decided it was romantic and spun around happily. More usefully, she also directed him to the books he wanted and gave him a discount on purchase.

**Talbot**

Flame technology relied heavily on crystals, stones, precious ores and a few other extremely unusual oddities to work best, but it could be made to work with more sub-par materials. Learning more about this dimension's geology and chemistry could only benefit him. If there was enough that was the same he could not only make Flame Technology work -because he really wanted to recreate Colonello's rifle, even if he wouldn't have the targeting systems- but also make rings and even create his own personally founded sect of the Varia if he was stranded here long enough, which would need appropriate rings so he could train them up right.

Talbot might be the Vongola's ghoul-ringsmith, but Xanxus knew enough to make his own rings. Not to the quality of Talbot's creations but Xanxus didn't have centuries of experience and decades of time for hunting the perfect materials, nor did he have the old man's ears to hear the voices of the materials.

In short, Xanxus could make rings but at best he might reach a mid to low B-class ring which would be a lot better than anyone else's attempt since most people were cripplingly limited by their own perception of what was possible and what wasn't. He'd suspect the shamanistic ringsmith was not human like that Checkerface/Kawahira and Yuni were, except that after chasing the ringsmith down the first time so that Bester could be upgraded and integrated into his ring, Talbot informed him that his longevity was due to exposure of the unique ores that the Vongola and Mare Rings were derived from. That he'd said so without Xanxus asking had unsettling implications, but several centuries of practice meant the old ghoul had a lot of time to learn to read people.

**Reference**

Asking for a decent wholesaler in town actually netted him some results from the bookstore lady. Unfortunately, even with his own inexperienced eye he knew that most of them were unsuitable beyond belief. They were show-pieces, fit for fancy decorations and not much else. Asking for someone who dealt in uncut jewels was much harder but doable, especially since he added that he didn't mind dealing with eccentrics. It was only after he said that that the jeweler sighed and gave him directions.

This sent him into another district of Lougetown, favored by the more wealthy. Looking at a building standing alone that had been remodeled into something that Xanxus would expect from a gypsy tent given permanence he figured that it couldn't be that bad. Madam Rosso Vortice's shop couldn't be worse than dealing with Lussuria.

**Unexpected**

The best way to describe the events in Madam Rosso Vortice's shop was, it was unexpected. Not 'what do you mean there are fifty of them?' unexpected, but more like 'did Mammon mess with my perception of reality?' unexpected. Mammon's revenge could usually be prevented by a payment with exorbitant interest rates included, but sometimes Mammon was angry enough to be subtle. That was when Mammon changed from flashy illusions to utility ones, where was was real and wasn't was so much harder to determine as the Acrobaleno played 'psychic vivisection.'

The air inside was scented with burning incense and sage, if his spotty knowledge of herb-lore didn't fail him. There were lush fabrics displaying well crafted jewelry underneath panes of glass in cases that were as plush and as rich as the rest of the shop. Xanxus may not be able to hear rings or jewelry, but he knew quality when he saw it.

He heard the 'squee!' and saw the incoming red tackle, caught whoever it was and tossed it back from whence it came to collide with a bald man with decorative tattoos and earrings. Despite his fierce seeming appearance, Xanxus got the impression of a compassionate and kind person if a little stern. A lot like the only tutor the Ninth gave Xanxus that he actually didn't want to kill for being a condescending intellectual fucking snob. That guy had actually lasted right up until the Cradle Affair. He remained one of the few people Xanxus had an actual conversation with in his home dimension.

"Rosso! Behave!" The man snapped at the girl, as he set her back on her feet. From this angle all Xanxus could tell that she had on a long red skirt, a white shirt, and understated bangles, had red hair and a large purple ribbon in a bow on the back of her head.

"But his rings! They sing!" The girl snapped back as she struggled ineffectually in the man's grip. "It's all fire and wrath wrapped with the sound of a lion! Rawr!" She tried to growl as she attempted to reach her captors eyes or throat to rip them out.

"What's the name of the one who holds the rings that sing?" Rosso asked as she abruptly turned towards him, revealing that the ribbon was over her eyes, making her resemble Talbot rather eerily, especially as the necklaces started dropping out of her shirt due to gravity. She just needed Talbot's poncho full of materials and tools to complete the image of a mini ghoul-ringsmith.

"Xanxus."

"Seta! Down! Rosso needs to speak with Xanxus of the rings that sing. She wants to know her rival in making rings. She wants materials."

That smile did not belong on a young girl of what looked to be not even ten. Xanxus noted the other oddities about her, ones that not even being raised in the mafia could attribute to.

"So what curse do you have?"

"See Seta! Rosso knew Xanxus of the burning soul and frosty heart would know. He didn't ask for Rosso's mother or if it was Devil Fruit!" A fey and feral smile graced Rosso's lips, before she asked in perfect Italian with a Venetian accent, "Where are you from?"

"Not East Blue." He replied in the same language.

Rosso stomped her booted foot in a fit of childishness.


	19. Chapter 19

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the cute Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Stalemate<strong>

Xanxus had Elianto aimed at Rosso before she even drew her foot back from stomping the floor. The young woman -if she was actually a little girl, Xanxus was about as insane as she appeared to be and he knew a mask when he saw one- in red with the purple ribbon didn't even tense, even if Seta had drawn back to defend his mistress. Admirable of the man, but unneeded and unwanted between the him and the one who could speak Italian.

Before Rosso had showed that ability, he had been willing to treat her as he would Talbot, with the professional courtesy and respect that he could give the master craftsman. Now however Xanxus was just plain fucking wary. He still knew less about this dimension than he wanted to know, he had a charge to protect, things to find out for both his hobby and as a profession and now this shit was dumped on him. Rouge was enough of storybook fairy tale that Xanxus was instantly on edge. If she mentioned a destiny, he was going to cut and run to a deserted island to be a hermit with a coconut named Squalo to throw things at.

"A son of fury, you are then." Rosso sing-songed in a way that was creepy as fuck. "Anger runs hot, tempered by cold reason, selfish motivations and surprisingly strong honor. Killing is as easy as breathing so rebuilding challenges you."

"An eccentric, a child you present yourself as." Xanxus replied, falling back into methods of humoring his mad mother with ease. In her less lucid moments, they had played twisty word games like this. "Your mature frustrations masquerade as a spoiled child's temper. The cut of your skill shows in your sharp senses rendered seemingly blind."

Those twisted word games been unexpectedly useful for dealing with eccentric Mafia powers, so he'd never lost the knack because it was effective at throwing them far off balance that they'd dance to his tune before they regained their wits when using force against those eccentrics was stupidly unwise. If it reinforced the rumors that Xanxus was all sorts of crazy, that was only better since crazy, unlike insanity was impossible to predict.

Rosso relaxed and cheered in way that assassins did when presented with a new toy from the R&D. Typical Mists.

Seta sighed. "Tea, mistress?" He asked, also in Italian.

"Bring the whiskey too, and close up the shop." Rosso replied. "Come, Xanxus, we have much to talk about."

**Explanations**

"How much of our history do you know?" Rosso asked, once they were seated in the shop's workshop.

"Next to nothing." Xanxus replied honestly. "My mother was not very lucid most days." This was also true. Lying with the truth was pretty easy so long as you were vague.

"At least you know the language of our people. The World Government has done a wonderful job of destroying our history and almost every sign that we ever existed."

"The bloodlines right? Adoption doesn't matter if they don't have the blood." Xanxus responded, when he realized what Rosso meant. Everything _always_ went back to blood.

"Yes. The bloodlines can be a great blessing or a gift. Fury is your birthright and you wield it with great skill, so that it sings and dances like a flame. A warrior born you are."

"And you can hear the energies of the soul, the resonances. Hearing people's voices must be a great trial when you already know the truth about them."

"Someone taught you to think and you do so very well. You are at home in the dangerous and dark. Assassin true, truer than any cast in the twenty king's shadows."

"Is the keeping of histories your charge or self-imposed?"

"Neither. That is Seta's job, as it was his father's. I sit here, pretend to be mad and grow old ever so slowly as I watch things change. Thankfully Lougetown knows enough of the Grand Line and Devil Fruits to assume that is my sole curse."

"People are idiots." Xanxus said. He found this pretty damn obvious.

"They don't listen, nor see as they should." A wry quirk of the mouth briefly flitted across her somber face. "At least the majority do not listen or see as they should."

**Ambition**

"And the minority?" Xanxus asked. "Are they born open to the world or do they learn to listen after years of deafness?"

"A rare few are born open to the world, which is a curse considering how callous others are, as for the latter... On the Grand Line, specifically a sea that is so much worse in its latter half than first half, that it makes that dangerous initial half a fun paradise... there are certain people, better known as monsters of monsters. Most of these monsters of monsters learn to read the flow of combat, the intentions of those around them and of the world. They learn to see the aura, feel the emotions of others and they call this 'haki.' It is their will but it is not as defined and as honed as yours."

"So they know how to use the basics but don't have a proper medium beyond their bodies, nor know how to truly manifest their will onto the world."

"Exactly."

"Pitiful." He observed. Lack of imagination did not cripple Mists alone; the mind was an assassin's greatest weapon. The fact that they didn't try to go beyond what they found out or were taught was fucking stupid. He could imagine Clouds subconsciously multiplying strength, Storms capable of great destruction by virtue of their will making things weaker for all that they couldn't properly harness it. Sun users healing from wounds faster than normal and never getting sick, and the Lightning users taking excessive amounts of damage and still getting up. Then there were the Skies, who could do all of that without properly manifesting the Dying Will Flames. If they were strong enough Skies, they could easily destroy mountains with enough practice.

"Cruel." She observed of him.

"Whiskey?" Seta asked, having a seemingly unopen bottle a tray. Xanxus figured that Seta was either a Lightning or a Sun, if he was as flame capable as Rosso appeared to be. She seemed to be quite good at it too...

"Gimme the bottle and tell me these histories you keep."

**History**

In short it was a tragedy, as expected of any piece of history under a tyrannical regime. Xanxus had learned a little bit about the Void Century during his earlier searches, which was suspicious as fuck since the World Government formed during that time. It could be stupidly difficult to research things that happened even a decade ago since ocean air could be and was often corrosive.

The people who spoke Italian didn't have a name for themselves, as much as they referred to themselves as wanderers or 'the lost.' They had by bloodline a number of gifts which was phrased as 'a closer connection to the world' and physical talents that manifested in both their above average strength and longevity, as they always appeared younger than they actually were.

Any attempts since then at bringing together the scattered families always ended up smashed under the World Government's iron fist, who committed far more genocide than should be contemplated by any truly long-sighted regime. While the World Government had a surface image of benevolence, it wasn't hard to find more disturbing implications and that could easily lead to revolt and rebellion and chaos. The papers' propaganda was pretty easy to spot; the lies less so.

There were a few good reasons for the World Government's continued actions against this population, as the physical talents and an inherited mindset made for nearly ideal covert agents for all that the brainwashing ruined any of the mental gifts and stagnated the more physical ones.

The former part was interesting because an entire population of such people having a stable society was possible for all that the Mafia was ever-changing. Xanxus could imagine the power struggles, the dynasties and the fights. It would be glorious to see and terrifying to watch should it actually be true, but clearly there was no Vongola to be a steady pillar century after century, boss after boss. Something like it might have existed, only to be torn down during the Void Century. No wonder the World Government crushed all attempts at the descendants attempts at reunion if they feared the remake of such a dynasty.

Get good enough and learn enough and government-ending miracles were possible; the Varia had killed off a fair few dictators and warlords setting up their own kingdoms in bloody places of the world. Not often, but frequently enough that Lussuria was part of such missions seven damn times and Lussuria had been part of the Varia since he was a teenager and prospective Sun Guardian to Massimo. Massimo who turned the okama down due to his own homophobia. Lussuria had been thoroughly investigated and verified as having nothing to do with Massimo's death, but while he was respectfully mournful about the fact that the 9th had lost a son, he wasn't exactly mournful that it had been Massimo either.

This latter part was not entirely news to Xanxus either; brainwashing those that were Flame-capable had happened before and still did. It was mostly about making those capable of Dying Will Flames loyal to the boss or the family but some families went even further. It was most evident among those with Lightning-flames; most of them were brainwashed and broken in such ways that they were little more than heavily armed lambs for slaughter or broodmares. The Sawada-brat's Lightning Guardian showed evidence of it as well, but most of that was childhood indoctrination typical for little Lightnings. The Bovino-trash was probably one of the best adjusted Lightnings in all of the mafia, especially when compared to those that the Varia had.

That the trash that was his Lightning Officer of the Varia was actually the most well-adjusted Lightning in the Varia was fucking pathetic and said bad things about the rest of the Lightning Squad's mental state. Levi's well-adjustment was mostly due to the fact that Levi built his world around Xanxus and not some nebulous concept, as Xanxus encouraged Levi's independence and self-development often, if at gunpoint. It was fucking creepy that Levi could get a hard-on by being used as a footstool, as was the utter dependency and obsessive need for praise but Levi had been _worse._

Levi could be physically abused, even yelled and shot at but saying the wrong thing could make Levi kill himself with glee if he thought it would make his boss happy. Most of the brainwashing used on Lightning users was either getting rid of a sense of self or getting rid of self-preservation instincts, and that depended on the gender. It was an unfortunate Flame to be born to in the Mafia; Verde might have been an Acrobaleno and been involved in the Mafia but he wasn't born to it and it showed. Verde was quite loyal and interested in himself and in his science.

So Xanxus learned that Dying Will Flames used to exist in this world, along with some Flame Technology that pretended it was entirely decorative and what might have driven twenty prideful kings into forming the World Government.

**Flames**

Dying Will Flames were wonderful tools, but difficult to harness, more so to master and all the more dangerous when properly backed with the right technology. They were also incredibly elitist; with flames blood really did matter. Even if the Vongola was the most powerful mafia family, they weren't the largest. They weren't even second largest. They were third largest.

Most of them couldn't use Flames at all.

Of the three branches, having a level of proficiency in using Flames was a Varia requirement, much like being fluent in seven languages. The CEDEF only required its elite to be flame-capable, while the main branch of the Vongola did much the same, although there were some sprinkled here and there that were also capable in the middle-ranks, working their way up.

Despite the Dying Will Bullet having been available to the Vongola famiglia since the 7th invented it, there was a reason that not everyone in the Vongola was capable of Dying Will Flames. Resolve was one important issue, as was biological talent. Some people were almost incapable of using a flame and it wasn't for lack of resolve but for the fact their body didn't produce a lot of it. Others had plenty of flame but no control, which could turn deadly if used wrong. Or even if used right, which could be a waste of their other, more mundane talents. Inventors, researchers, doctors and the like were far harder to replace than mere low-leveled hitmen.

So having a Kingdom where the norm was people like him or Rosso, who were flame-capable from a young age backed by Flame Technology with noted longevity and above average physical ability was something to both fear and envy if you were a ruler with an uncertain grip on your domain. Especially since social order had to have been enforced somehow in a way that worked to keep everyone in check. While the Sawada-brat was slowly returning the Vongola to its roots, it was still dealing with the Mafia who were unruly enough, even if some families were barely competent. Overwhelming force would be needed to keep social order since he doubted this world had Vindici to work as arbiters, especially if they ever had a strong, rebellious Sky complete with Guardians.

Well, that at least gave him an idea of why the World Government was initially formed. Some of the things the R&D division could do with Flame Technology was nightmare worthy, even for the head of the Varia but those things likely hadn't been invented or conceived of here due to it being over-technology. What was possible made Vongola into the superpower of the underground for over four hundred years.

"Fuck." Xanxus breathed out. He hadn't used Flames beyond Mist here, but this just proved that using them could be a fucking horrible idea if he wasn't pretending to have eaten a Devil Fruit. At least Mist Flames were the hardest to detect, especially since the people here who could use them properly was likely very small which made finding them all the harder. The information was probably so obscure that few people would know but those that would, had power. Maybe a few kings, fanatics about old legends and those way up in the World Government. If he ever did something noticeable and those in power connected the Flames to him meant he'd have a massive bounty on his head and money made people stupid.

"Being limited like that is annoying isn't it?" She asked as she drank her alcohol-laced tea.

"You really should stop possessing that girl anyways." He commented instead.

"It's better than Impel Down. It's so boring down there. Talking to the Pirate King was nice, but he's going to be in Lougetown soon and I won't even be able to talk to him then."

From that statement alone, Xanxus knew that Rosso and the possessed brat had a decent resonance, but the brat probably wasn't powerful or proficient enough to use their own flames. So 'visiting' wasn't possible, since possessing someone from half a world away required top-class strength and purity anyway. Going beyond that without synergistic support and trust wasn't possible.

"Fucking Mists can't stay out of trouble." The Sawada brat's male Mist Guardian was a textbook example of this; any Sky who wanted to keep his Mist out of jail was by necessity a tyrant, a master blackmailer and a politician. That the female Mist Guardian was a devout accomplice of Mukuro's was just another worry.

If they weren't so useful then it would be much harder to remind yourself why you wanted to keep them around. Mammon's greed and ability did keep him out of trouble but there was this one mission in Vegas where Xanxus had Squalo do some fast-talking to the casino manager and Bel had fun 'rescuing' Mammon from casino security. The reason why Mammon hadn't escaped himself was that the security guard he was with was high as a kite so illusions were worthless, and the guard knew enough about restraining kids that Mammon couldn't find any way to struggle effectively. Xanxus assigned Mammon one hell of a strength training regime as punishment for that failure despite the fact that Mammon was physically a child.

"Yes, that's true." Seta said.

Rosso pouted.

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><p>Did I surprise you guys?<p> 


	20. Chapter 20

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the compassionate Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Business<strong>

"So now, that we're all caught up," Rosso beamed, radiating happiness and satisfaction in a way that was just fucking strange, "we can discuss exactly what you were doing coming to my shop."

"And how you've hidden yourself." Xanxus added. He was capable of sensing flames from quite a distance away but he hadn't even noticed hers until he'd come face to face -still hadn't really seen them- but the Acrobaleno Representative Battle was enlightening in that there were rings that could hide someone's Flame from detection even while they were using it. He was going to have to tune his senses to pick up on the fucking retarded way the natives did and didn't use flames here, as that was going to be important soon. He might even have to make his own Mammon-ring, or use other methods to effectively disappear from notice.

Seta however wasn't wearing a ring, so clearly she had done something to the shop to prevent possible detection by technology or agents of the World Government. He had the sense that Seta was flame capable but he couldn't identify it; that was annoying but able to be ignored.

"On to business?"

"Business it is."

**Variance**

"Quite the collection," Xanxus noted aloud as he looked and more importantly felt the uncut gems, the crystals and ores hidden in the basement beneath the shop that Rosso had shown him into. There was also the collection of gold jewelry, and ornamentation piled in a jumbled pile that more or less said that Rosso had robbed any number of far too rich individuals or possibly pirate crews. The fact that they were mangled so that gems could be removed said she was using the collected treasure in her work and possibly the gold or silver too; gold was such a pliable metal so that was easy enough but the silver would be harder.

The coinage and a few gold bars were stacked in a corner, and while Xanxus wasn't certain, he thought that she had a few bars of platinum in there too. Platinum had a particular feel to it and had a number of interesting uses in Flame tech. It was also one of the reasons that Flame technology was so damn expensive and would remain so until the R&D people figured out cheaper alternatives of the superconducting variety. Flame science was odd like that.

He had an inkling of an idea of why she invited him down here, but only her actions would prove if he was right.

"A girl likes her shinies. They sing." She shrugged, opening a few crates full of crystals, and moved them towards a table in the center. A few smaller but still substantial ones were placed on the tabletop, showing they were gems. The gems were generally uncut, he noticed.

Getting the idea of what she wanted, he started searching in the crates, resisting the urge to steal a few. That would be stupid; you couldn't rob a ringsmith without them noticing and then you were at the mercy of their whims and their sense of humor. Most Mists had a very dubious sense of humor anyways.

Pulling out around thirty seemingly random pieces from various boxes, he looked at the assembled ores and gemstones on a smooth stone tabletop. Harmonizing his flame, he felt each one. He put several back into the boxes, as they didn't feel right for what he needed of them. He _knew _in an instinctive way that those weren't good choices; impurities or faults in the gem itself could ruin Flame Technology with ease. He was lucky as hell that his prototype X-guns hadn't blown up in his face.

He ended up with ten crystals of various types, and eight gems. He paused, moving to one side two crystals and one gem for his own personal use. He'd have to pay for those, but it could be worth it, after a few more shooting competitions and some robbery too; his wallet could recover.

"How much is your commission work again?"

"I didn't say, but we can come to a deal since I can almost hear a harmony. Rosso finds that most impressive."

"Then a set of rings, as close to this one here that you can, or better." He held up his Varia Ring for an examination.

"I can't make it roar. That was added later, and I don't know why or how."

"That's fine. Just the rings are needed for now." Xanxus said, ignoring Rosso's pouting behavior. If he was going to cultivate people, he was going to do it properly. The World Government's crusade on flame-capable people be damned. He was cautious, not a coward.

**Supplies**

The time up until and over lunch was spent in negotiations about the rings, everything from little details of the design to the price and deadline. The only reason Xanxus was not being asked to give up limbs as payment was that he was more or less assumed to be her kinsman, if very distantly. The number of zeros was frankly more than several nation's budgets if he calculated a proper equivalency rate out between this dimension's currency and his own. In effect, he was being spared a significant portion of Mammon's life savings as a family discount on materials. Still, he was paying for the work, which was more costly than he wanted to think about right now.

After some rigorous and rather enjoyable negotiations, Rosso was left holding a gem and a resonating crystal, as she 'listened' for proper matches. He had been told before that he had good instincts but that he wasn't much of a ring smith since he didn't know how certain cuts could influence the 'song.' He had a vague idea of how that worked but not much more than that. He was then dismissed from the basement storehouse.

Upon reaching the store-floor he asked Seta for information about who usually supplied them and the answers to his questions about the more exotic markets were worth it. If all the chemistry he learned carried over, he'd not only get the things needed for dying will bullets but also to flame-proof his feathers and clothing. It wouldn't be as resistant as his uniform but those had every stage of the making process coated and saturated in the mixture that made it practically flame-proof. While the mixture he had in mind sounded like something out of a witch's pot in ingredients, it did very little without sun-flames activating and catalyzing a large amount of the needed chemical reactions.

He also asked why Rosso's actual body was in Impel Down. Finding out that she was tormenting the prisoners was not unexpected, but it seemed a little... tame. Then again, Seta was likely a Lightning, so he probably missed a lot of nuances about things like that. Rosso was a flamboyant type of Mist, which while rarer than the norm did explain a lot about her as she liked to be seen and appreciated by an audience but not understood. She could be doing anything from illegal research to sabotage and whatever else that caught her fancy, which included being a prisoner and then escaping without anyone noticing.

Impel Down was not Vendicare after all from what he'd been able to tell from the Marine reports and rumors. Vendicare could fail against a damn good Mist, filled with pissed-off former Acrobaleno or not, so having someone with an active flame and knowing how to use it would have little trouble breaking out. Since the World Government was all for killing those flame capable, and had been for centuries, the knowledge of flames would be hard to come by and even harder to defend against.

Impenetrable and unescapable prison, Xanxus bet not. Rosso being a Mist and being in the prison did explain why the guards had such a monumental fucking failure in removing Shiki's weapons. Shiki might have cut off his feet according to gossip and having to choose between freedom or the loss of legs was just entertainment for the typical sadistic Mist. She had probably pouted because he likely didn't hesitate and agonize over the choice.

**Schedule**

After buying the reagents needed to fireproof his things, he broke into his hotel room and got started. Using the bathroom tub for a quick and dirty flame-proofing session was not an entirely unfamiliar exercise for Xanxus. Only the Varia uniform was provided already flame-proof so any personal clothing or clothing intended for undercover purposes that needed to be flame-proofed either had to be done by hand if you couldn't pay someone else to do it for you, provided you even trusted someone else to do it right.

Lussuria certainly tried however he lacked the touch for it, but one of the Varia's Sun Squad had a nice touch with it and had altered the recipe so it didn't need to soak so long, but that altered recipe only worked for the more powerful Suns, so Xanxus' with his harmonized flame couldn't reach the requirements for that altered recipe. Xanxus had a number of clothes to do and intended to treat his new hair ornaments too. Leaving about half of them to soak in the tub for an hour meant he could break out of his hotel room, eat lunch and return by walking back into the hotel via the front door, so he did just that.

He detoured by the hotel's laundry room in the basement and borrowed some of the washing powder, and the frankly rather primitive equipment. Rouge may not have had a washing machine but the equipment here was freaking ancient. After draining the tub and wringing the worst out, Xanxus washed all the things that he had flame-proofed. Testing with his sky flames and a feather ornament that gratifyingly didn't burn proved that even in this new dimension, chemistry was still his friend. Drying the clothing was easy as the heat of the flames evaporated the water quickly.

Sick of laundry by this point, he took Elianto out and went to find the rifle contest that would be going on later. Winning it was easy, as was escaping the large number of suddenly interested buyers. Mentioning that he'd be selling guns and rifles at an acquaintance's shop and later on at the auction after the execution at least proved he was getting a reputation.

Over the next few days, Xanxus rendered his entire wardrobe flame-resistant, won every shooting contest he entered, made weapons, mooched food off of the Clydes and learned more about this dimension from Seta and other sources.

**Countdown**

The sixth of October, was not an unusual day in the semi-routine he'd created over the weeks he had spent in Lougetown. Xanxus infiltrated the marine base to confirm when Garp was coming in, dressed in his fancy officer uniform rather than the simple seaman uniform he'd worn the previous week to get his second round of shots; that had only made him feel out of sorts for two days which confirmed his theory, as had more research. Finding out that Garp was on schedule as was the Pirate King proved that his time in Lougetown was coming to an end.

His trip had proven successful in a number of ways. He had learned a lot more about this world, including information about his charge's condition. He had clothing that he was comfortable in. He had established a reputation as a genius gunsmith so when he invented 'bullets' it wouldn't be as surprising to the people who cared about such things. He had something resembling an income from shooting competitions, although more would be coming after the Pirate King's death at the auction.

He even had a number of bonus objectives completed, such as finding out if people here were flame-capable and finding the materials for both Dying Will Bullets and flame-proofing clothing. He had even found people worth cultivating and a ringsmith of all the fucking things. A crazy body-snatching Mist of a ringsmith but a ringsmith nonetheless.

He also had a few aliases, complete with their own false histories. Admittedly two was more by mistaken identity but Xanxus wasn't ashamed to keep them. One morphed into Sansei the mysterious and eccentric gunsmith, as apparently most people couldn't pronounce his name properly or rumor warped it. Did nobody use the letter 'X' here? The other was Xanxus, the ignorant wanderer, of a long-lost kingdom and a big fucking target should the World Government learn of his existence. The final alias was that of Sanshou, the marine officer, who did have a constant income and was the reason he had an actual den-den-mushi of his own.

He actually had several of the creepy little things. One for his eventual gun business, one for his marine contact that he'd actually been issued by the oh-so-helpful people in the Marine Stores, one for his personal contacts and another to keep them from being overheard; the last was stolen from some idiots who were tossing money around before he robbed them blind. It still counted as his though. He had even called Rouge to tell her that he was fine and doing well.

The only objectives that remained were to speak with Roger, see the execution, sell his excess weaponry, a few more errands that would involve socializing and leave, to return at another unspecified time later. He'd have to make the impossible possible first to talk with Roger, but it should be doable. He was of Varia Quality after all.


	21. Chapter 21

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the delightful Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Parade<strong>

In his marine guise, Xanxus was with the other officers from the base as Garp disembarked from his ship. To cover his facial scar this time he was wearing a flesh tone band-aid, stolen from the marine's medical wing with the rest of the box against future need. Varia quality meant being prepared, after all. He unlike the other marines noted who was important in the officers immediately under Garp were and realized that the Vice-Admiral had one very sharp second.

The second was in a dull-colored suit, but well tailored to allow for sword fighting. The scowl, the hat and calm air gave him the feel of a veteran hitman. That guy was good in an understated way that said he had nothing to prove about his own strength as he knew it well and knew he was better than anyone who looked at him and just saw a non-entity. It reminded him of Squalo, who didn't brag about his accomplishments but that still didn't stop Squalo from having been the Sword Emperor from the age of fourteen.

Monkey D. Garp was a large and well-muscled man, with slowly graying hair cut short, a curious scar on his temple and laugh lines. The man was well-dressed and adorned in medals; clearly parade officer dress that would get discarded as soon as this bit of the media circus around the execution had finished.

Garp disappeared into the depths of the Lougetown Marine Base, and the lines of marines were dismissed in an orderly fashion.

Xanxus' opinion of the local marines dropped further. How had they not questioned his presence? There really should be a limit to stupidity, and not knowing the number of officers present, their identities and their ranks was one of them.

**Observe**

Xanxus's alias, by dint of his rank and supposed familiarity, was more or less ordered to show Garp to an office for all that he wasn't known at this base at all. It was then that Garp's more eccentric habits started showing, and it neatly explained why a few of his subordinates were carrying around crates. Yes, they were supplies but building supplies had been unexpected and inexplicable up until this point.

He crashed through _walls. _Not just the plasterboard, drywall crap. It wasn't even wooden walls either. These were _brick_ walls, made with the concrete cinder blocks. He seemed to enjoy it far too much.

Garp was clearly not one to care for doors and preferred to make his own. The crates were full of supplies to fix the walls that Garp broke by virtue of being stupidly strong for all that he and the rest of this dimension's inhabitants used their flames without properly manifesting them as flames or using proper equipment to boost a flame's wavelength so the active effects could be used. Passive abilities were good and all but they only effected the user. Xanxus had to admit that despite the fucking retarded way the natives used their flames, just boosting the passive effects to absurd levels clearly could be useful.

Garp ordered the walls fixed, his second sorted out who would be doing it this time, to answers of 'yes, Bogart-taisa!' from the minions.

That made Bogart a Captain in rank but probably not in ability. Having a higher rank would likely have Bogart given his own ship to command when the Powers That Be wanted him following Garp around ensuring he didn't leave too much mess in his wake. His day-to-day mess was a bit absurd anyway. Captain was also higher than his own false rank of Warrant Officer by several levels. Xanxus knew from his looking around as part of faking his own documents that Garp went through officers at an absurd rate, some even higher than a mere Captain in the latter half of the Grand Line, so for Bogart to still be attached to Garp and practically unscathed beyond minor injuries when Rear-Admirals were getting killed said phenomenal luck or superb skill.

The assassin's instinct and experience said skill was more likely. Bogart was just too composed to not have the skill to match his easy confidence.

Garp was shown to an office, where the Vice-Admiral made himself at home by ordering food from the den-den mushi and supposedly doing the paperwork that his second -Bogart-taisa Xanxus reminded himself- brought in for a bit only to leave to deal with the details that his boss either couldn't or wouldn't.

The Vice-Admiral looked at the papers, tossed them on the desk. Garp then leaned back in his seat, placed his feet on the desk and went to sleep, leaving Xanxus standing there caught between fury and ironic bemusement. Xanxus would much rather be at home doing the same, but with less destroying walls and more throwing things.

**Impressions**

Looking at Garp as he snored, Xanxus was reminded of that Sawada brat's Sun Guardian, who was a boxing obsessed idiot. The similar crew-cut made it more obvious even if Garp was greying from the sides up. This was someone who got things done out of sheer force of personality and remarkable physical strength. Garp had likely bulldozed any detractors out of sheer strength and outlasted them with stubbornness.

Bogart-taisa was likely assigned to 'manage' Garp initially, but eventually followed out of earned loyalty which proved that Garp was a good man for all that his impulse control was worse than a child's and his usual maturity not much better; this didn't mean that Garp couldn't be appropriately serious when necessary but his day to day actions were distinctly childish from what Xanxus could tell. No one got promoted that high up without being able to make mature, intelligent decisions. Other officers had even _higher_ casualty rates, which was disheartening. It was also informative about the propaganda the World Government was capable of; fudging those statistics would be very difficult if they got out.

He might just cope with the job by being childish; there were far worse coping mechanisms. It was annoying but not nearly as much as Sawada's bratty Lightning Guardian who had been part of the reason that he wound up in this dimension as it was modified ammo to the scum's bazooka that had stranded him here. The bazooka wasn't even used, which could be the worse part of the fact that the entire fucking mess.

As first impressions went, Xanxus had to admit that his weren't all that articulate. If Xanxus had to sum it up quickly though, it went: 'Fuck, this guy is too much like Sawada's Sun Guardian and fucking-Iemitsu to be thought of as sane. A _sunny_ sky!'

**Doze**

The Vice-admiral's nap was stupidly short for an actual nap. Having seen the eyes flutter meant that Garp was dreaming. There was only one medical condition that Xanxus knew of that dropped a person straight into dreamland like that and that was narcolepsy. It was probably a very mild case, because a more serious one could impair combat capability. The condition meant that at any time, any where, they could be knocked into dreamland for a spin.

Dangerous and concerning. Any guardians would have a bitch-fit... Wait. How did the Vice-Admiral not have Guardians beyond Bogart? They could be assigned elsewhere, but if they harmonized even the slightest they would want to be around Garp as much as possible. He supposed that Garp could be like the Bucking Horse in some ways; Dino harmonized with _all_ of his fucking huge famiglia on some level or another so not having them around threw him so off-balance that he was a complete and utter klutz. Dino's second-in-command Romario was Dino's only proper guardian. That didn't quite fit but he could think about it later since Garp was showing signs of waking up.

The nap as short as it was seemed to have recharged the Vice-Admiral, as he actually noticed Xanxus. The Vice-Admiral frowned as he looked at him in puzzlement.

"You seem familiar. Have we met?"

"Warrant Officer, Furia Sanshou. I've served under you previously." Xanxus said blandly, naming his alias. None of the Varia had much of a talent for naming living things, so fake identities were just odd enough to pass as unfortunate. Still, Sanshou had a bit of an authority problem that was about to show its head. "Are you senile already sir?"

"Bwahaha! I don't know how I would forget someone like you! When were you under me again?"

Xanxus gave his file's history. He had decided on the day that he had requested his own 'replacement' den-den mushi to artificially age the new paper his files were on, which required a curious balance of Storm and Rain flames. It had taken a lot of discreet running around on base, as everything had been properly filed, which required the files to be found again and aged one at a time. He'd have to forge and repeat the same process later, at Marine Headquarters which would be nerve-wracking to make the fake identity stick.

Sanshou's mood worsened as Garp waved off his careful back story without question and jovially insisted he help with the paperwork, which the Warrant Officer couldn't refuse too much without suspicion. Then Garp's ordered food arrived. Sanshou then discovered that Garp had the manners of a starving man, which is to say none at all.

**Snap**

As head of the Varia, Xanxus could deal with a lot before his patience actually snapped. Most thought he had a far shorter temper than he actually did because if benefited him to have people tip-toe around certain topics and kept the worst of their behaviors toned down which prevented the insane asylum that was Varia Headquarters from turning into a ticking bomb. Acting as the touchiest person in the building meant everyone was far too busy trying not to aggravate him to be interested in messing each-other around. Usually anyway. Bel always liked to test the boundaries.

Xanxus was however nearing breaking point, as Sanshou had been with Garp for the better part of an hour, which was far more time spent with Garp in close quarters than sane people wanted to spend. It really wasn't a surprise that Xanxus' temper snapped in a way that made Garp laugh that irritating laugh at his verbal torrent of furious abuse. Falling into old habits, the orange fruit almost hit Garp in the face, whizzing past as the Vice-Admiral dodged to splatter against the wall.

Sanshou took a deep breath and tersely excused himself to return to the 'vacation' he had already mentioned to Garp, marching out of the room before the man could agree.

Once outside of Garp's temporary office, Xanxus took a deep breath and thought about his incredibly risky plan. It was all riding on Garp's friendship with Roger. If Garp paid a covert visit to Roger, Xanxus was planning to tail the Vice-Admiral and eavesdrop on that conversation before having his own.

It was stupidly risky, full of holes, but he could make it work. He'd worked miracles with worse odds before. If not, he could always find another way, but this was the safest. Varia Quality existed for a reason.

* * *

><p>I know that Garp probably visited Roger while Roger was in Impel Down but the only evidence for that is the brickwork. Bricks made of seastone, which could feasibly exist on any warship capable of transporting prisoners since so many have Devil Fruit...<p> 


	22. Chapter 22

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the enlightening Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Disappear<strong>

One of the first things an assassin learns is how to disappear. It is both a fundamental skill and among the most versatile, being useful for many other purposes beyond killing. The first and most obvious way to disappear is to not be seen which could be anything from hiding under things, fading in the shadows all the way up to hiding in plain sight. Sight however is not the only sense that has to be fooled to effectively hide from people though.

Slowly, other ways that you could be traced by must be removed, degree by degree. Hearing is one of the first, as it is the second most basic sense people rely on to detect other people. Scent is another, far more used than most people realize since it isn't the conscious mind that processes scent. While hiding most learn to subdue their presence through sheer instinct, mentally whispering 'there's nobody here,' but that's not enough to truly hide from genuinely sharp senses and it could be rather telling to a sharp veteran on guard who was suspicious enough to shoot first. There were various methods to prevent detection of presence but to do so but effectively it boiled down to 'think and feel nothing' which was far harder than it seemed to be. After all, you still needed to breathe.

An amateur would have faded from feeling right outside of Garp's office or out of the base. Xanxus was not and could not be considered an amateur. He had already changed out of the marine uniform in the locker room and into more casual clothing that was not only flame-proof but looked a lot like a suit; in short, he looked like an off-duty officer that wasn't zealous enough to be wearing his 'justice' coat all the time. Not that he had a 'justice' coat because the officers who had them were protective over their coats and his alias was only a Warrant Officer. If he was promoted, then as an Ensign, he could wear the 'justice' coat.

He waited until he was well into town to relax his hold on the aura Sanshou held. Conveniently, he was in his hotel room. In his hands he held a scraggly feather ornament that was well past its best and imbued it with flame. It was a relatively simple procedure as was making it 'feel' like Sanshou. It took less than half a second. His hair ornaments were not purely decorative after all and they made it much harder for people to track him by flame-sensing as he could use them to muddy the senses with false trails. This was something he wanted to last for longer than an hour so he had to make sure the feather was saturated in the 'feel' of Sanshou before keeping it with him while suppressing his aura.

Leaving it on his pillow for hours on end would be silly since people moved. If any gifted sensor was looking, they'd think Sanshou was with a friend, preferably several of them as Xanxus knew how to fluctuate his aura in such a manner. Not that Sanshou was particularly friendly but Xanxus knew that there were some strange fucking people out there that would look at Sanshou and become his 'friend' because they saw something they liked. That's how Squalo operated anyway.

Then Xanxus left his hotel room via the window, noted the time and got something to eat.

**Seventh**

Garp's presence was felt in Lougetown by the next day. The air of celebration and wanton criminality was significantly reduced. It was a startling realization that the Vice-Admiral's mere presence could transform the town so, but Xanxus spent most of the day lounging in a cafe as himself, reading a scholarly magazine about the oddities of the Grand Line and various theories as to why it was that way.

It gave him a lot of information about the various islands on the Grand Line, their climates, their major resources or points of interest and the various oddities that supported or were used as evidence against various theories. The names were something that were both varied and strange but at least he now knew more about them. Lougetown being the 'town of the beginning and end' as he had heard it called earlier today proved that they didn't have issues about getting knowledge about the Grand Line in, should a person know how and where to look.

The magazine didn't explain much, since they were working on conjecture and couldn't really test things like that. In the end, it was undetermined scientifically so it was either magic or something similar since the Grand Line was not only unique but separated from itself too. In theory both sides of the Grand Line could have vastly different reasons for existence which did nothing to explain the existence and homogeneity of the Calm Belts which had no reason to impose 'calm' on incoming waves and winds. These same areas of sea were not a place any researcher wanted to visit due to them being the breeding grounds of the Sea Kings. Sea Kings were dangerous from sheer size alone.

Xanxus had the sinking suspicion that whatever was supposed to be holding this world in balance had broken, died or vanished some eons ago, hence all the fucking strangeness in the land or ocean. Flames were capable of doing very odd things when people used them over generations, and the Vongola hyper-intuition is one example. The Family had affected their own genetics through extensive flame use without even noticing prior to the Vongola being formed. Later, the mafia life style made it distinctly Darwinian in some ways. The Vongola hyper-intuition still existed beyond the Sawada's who were from the Primo's line; those that had it from Secundo's family that were still alive however weren't Skies and so couldn't inherit.

The Calm Belts' existence, all four of them, sounded like a massive fuck up with Rain Flames in a frankly inhuman quantity, like an Arcobaleno pacifier breaking or something. The fact that it happened at least four times said it wasn't. The Grand Line's strange growths and high speed adaptations could be explained with low-level Sun Flame exposure over possibly hundreds of thousands of years and natural selection.

He still had no idea why the fuck there were different magnetic fields or islands with different seasons; didn't the Shimon-brat use flames that effected gravity? Could there be Magnetic Flames? He'd never looked into Earth Flames before and it was clearly a massive oversight. He did know that they mirrored the Sky Flames to a degree but as only the Shimon Famiglia had them the chances of encountering Earth Flames were absurdly fucking low.

It was also highly unlikely that anyone would order a hit on them or that the Sawada-brat would do it on his friend either, so he hadn't looked much into it. The small size, surprising strength -the Shimon's boss had survived a coordinated attempt by several of his officers during the Acrobaleno trials, which was no small feat for all that Skull took the combination attack for the Shimon's baby boss- and lack of major operations meant that they had very few enemies who had little reason to disturb the peaceful famiglia.

He was still fuzzy on why the magnetic field altered the type of island anyway. Maybe it didn't and there were two different factors at work. It probably didn't. Correlation was not causation. The Magnetic North Pole did move in his home world, so every some fuck-ton of years later it would actually be the Magnetic South Pole; he had a nagging sense about proof on the ocean floor from some sort of zone or another as proof. Geography like that was not his strong suit. Seasons were caused by the tilt of the world as it circled the sun; that the islands could have their own seasons independently of each other was fucking strange. The fact that they had their own magnetic fields said they had a lot of metal so maybe the strangeness of the metal could channel flames or something. He really had no idea or how to even go about investigating such a theory.

Either way, at least this dimension was making more sense when Flames were brought into it, especially if Earth Flames were at work like he suspected. Similar did not mean same, and that could be all the difference.

**Eigth**

The next day was spent similarly, although he was lounging on a rooftop due to the increased patrols and reading what he knew was World Government propaganda for the third time but was enjoying anyway.

The day's newspaper was fucking hilarious though because he knew it was propaganda. Today, whoever was telling the papers what to print had screwed up or not done the editing properly, so the paper was not only blatant but also satirical. Journalists were very brave people at times, so they made ideal revolutionaries so long as they didn't get caught at it.

Journalists also made fine examples when executed after all, as so many knew their name and their published thoughts, so identified with them and felt their loss personally.

He was still keeping watch on the Marine Base and their actions but so far they hadn't lit up their base like he thought they would. If tailing Garp didn't work out, he could always swim.

**Tail**

Keeping watch over someone was far easier than tailing them. Xanxus let his conscious mind fall away as his mist-made surveillance equipment kept track of Garp by sheer aura alone.

Garp was a very sunny sky indeed.

As the time drew closer for when the Pirate King was to arrive, Xanxus left his watch post, his Sanshou-feather acting as decoy in his hotel room should Garp or any other care to look for Sanshou without using their eyes.

Now, he just had to lie in wait and make sure Garp didn't notice his tail at close quarters. It would be tricky, using just enough Sky Flame to nullify his weight, while keeping hidden with the Mist flames. Possibly using a bit of Rain's tranquility factor to prevent Garp from getting suspicious. That the Vice-Admiral was naturally optimistic and not paranoid at all would really help there.

Otherwise he was going to have to fucking fly and while the bay wasn't lit up like he thought it should be -they were focusing more of their effort onto the wider ocean- that didn't mean that it would be a fun proposition, or something he wanted to do at all. Xanxus wouldn't mind the swim so much as the fact that he'd drip evidence which was stupid and have to do laundry, which was annoying.

Garp was not the only Vice-Admiral in the base despite being the strongest in aura and flames -hadn't Rosso said they called it haki?- and Xanxus was on a stealth mission despite how much he wished for an actual fight. It would make him feel better if he could kill something since he could work out some of his frustrations.

**Sneak**

If he hadn't been seeing it, Xanxus wasn't sure what was more surprising: that Garp could sneak or that the Vice-Admiral was good at it.

Projecting a bit of tranquility had Garp thinking he was relaxing, and Xanxus managed to get himself in the same rowboat as Garp without a hint of how challenging it actually was showing. He was however impressed that nobody had noticed the Vice-Admiral -in a rather fine off-duty suit- quietly making his way through town down to the docks and into a dingy that was waiting for him.

Garp apparently had a loyal minion on the warship bringing the Pirate King to Lougetown, since there was a rope ladder tossed down for Garp to climb up. Xanxus avoided the ladder and used a Sky-flame trick to cling to the side of the warship as he climbed up it. It was a good decision, as after tying the rowboat to a line tossed down and climbing up it, the Vice-Admiral swiftly rolled the rope ladder up and stowed it under the rail. The large man had very dexterous hands and could climb like his surname suggested. Garp was actually on board the warship before Xanxus reached all the way up.

Then came the next tricky bit; tailing the Vice Admiral down below to the brig to meet the Pirate King face to face.

Xanxus really was curious about what Gol D. Roger was like in person.

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><p>I know Garp visited Roger in Impel Down but yeah, brig this time.<p> 


	23. Chapter 23

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the facinating Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic

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><p><strong>Depths<strong>

Despite the fact that this dimension had loads more reasons to improve ship conditions, space and such it didn't change the fact that ships had a limited supply of space unless those on board wanted to starve, be defenseless or whatever, though the vessel he was on was by far the largest sailing ship he'd ever seen in his life. Space on board a ship was a clash of give and take so having separate sleeping quarters for the crew meant less space for weapons or food storage. This ship was also a Marine warship so it had a brig, possibly more than one, and at least one office as paperwork was easy enough to fax with the den-den mushi. Creepy or not, those things were useful for office work and keeping in touch right across the world and were probably instrumental in keeping the World Government running. Was it possible to disrupt Den-den mushi calls entirely? He knew that there were ways to eavesdrop and protect calls from being heard but actual disruption? Something to look into.

Xanxus didn't know enough about ship building to know the details of how everything fitted together but he did know that under the deck was likely a maze of passageways, narrow corridors and what not. The only ships with 'free' space were passenger ships and pleasure cruisers since his home dimension's ships had been proven to be like these ships in a number of ways. The ship that brought him to East Blue hadn't been a passenger ship for all that it did take on a few of them so things had been cramped and Xanxus had been perfectly happy to have a hammock slung for him in a storage room so he wasn't sharing a bunk in shifts, risking gods knew what like bedbugs and lice. This however was a warship transporting a very important prisoner. He was proven right as Garp, and the minion were being careful even on board.

The minion was then dispatched back to his post -that guy really was taking quite the risk since dereliction of duty was normally a charge that ended with extra chores but this was the ship the Pirate King was on so he was risking death for an officer who'd likely only get a slap on the wrist- which meant Xanxus had to follow Garp in the dark, unseen and unnoticed on a ship when he didn't have the slightest idea about its interior.

Talk about a potential cluster fuck and a half.

He grinned at the challenge.

**Overhead**

Xanxus was not particularly happy to have to imitate a spider as he listened to Garp and Roger's conversation. Well, less conversation and more of Roger demanding a favor because he didn't want to force his child into a life of piracy lived constantly on the run from the World Government and just about everyone else, since nobody got called 'Pirate King' without making a horde of enemies. In short he wanted his child to have the freedom to chose what he or she wanted to do.

That comment also explained the reason he hadn't dragged Rouge out to sea for all that she had the potential to thrive there. If the mother was known, the child would be also. Xanxus didn't quite get the whole point of giving custody of his child to Garp as he had been raised by a criminal enterprise that had been around since the renaissance and handed down generation to generation, but Roger did know more about this world's unsaid realities than Xanxus did. So Xanxus let him decide; if it proved stupid there was a chance that Xanxus would be there to correct the worst of it. The scientists could have fucking done their jobs by then and he'd be back with the Varia and at home, but he wasn't counting on it. His luck didn't work like that.

Xanxus was not particularly happy to realize that Roger was asking for Garp's support of his child and only his child. It made him wonder if Roger was always this callous or if he knew he was already resigned to Rouge's death. It was possible, as Rouge was the type of woman to do everything to protect her child. It was also possible that Roger didn't think Garp would be able to find Rouge until she was dying, as then and only then would she get careless enough to get caught. Whatever the cause, Roger was not making a good first impression as Rouge's death meant Xanxus failed in guarding his personage.

Xanxus hated failure, so he wouldn't let that happen while he still had a debt. Maybe not even then as while Xanxus hesitated to call them friends they were more than mere acquaintances.

For a bastard who was going to die by what amounted to government-assisted suicide in a little over forty-eight hours, he was surprisingly insistent about a child not having the sins of their father. This was something found fucking true and logical but a lot of people lived without thinking logically because living emotionally was easier; which was why there were a lot of hotheaded idiots that needed killing because they didn't think and made it harder for others to think simply by existing. The money earned from those milkrun-jobs of killing emotional idiots kept the Varia budget happy and Mammon from unleashing terrifying illusions.

Still Roger also didn't give Garp specifics like where Rouge was at or her name, so Xanxus assumed that Roger though that his former rival could either figure it out himself or something.

Garp did have surprising depths so it was possible that he would, eventually. Garp was far too much like the Sawada-brat's Sun to be intuitively brilliant, so the Vice-Admiral would get there eventually but not any time soon. Still the powerfully built prisoner all but reeked of sickness to Xanxus' senses. Prison may not have outwardly effected him or dulled his personality but that execution would be a mercy killing. Xanxus knew this as he had done his fair share of them on occasion when it would be too impolite or too difficult for the Head of the Varia to not do it. Criminal or not, the assassination business still involved an awful lot of diplomacy which was why Squalo was his second; the shitty shark was _good_ at it.

**Greetings**

Xanxus dropped down in a silent crouch in front of the bars holding the Pirate King in his cell shortly after Garp left. Garp leaving just meant his way off of the ship was going to be far more difficult but not impossible, but Xanxus had achieved the impossible before.

The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger looked at Xanxus as though he had been waiting for Xanxus to show up. Roger might have noticed him, but probably not; for all that he was going to be executed soon, he was still on guard enough to watch for possible government assassin types. He was ready to move, to fight for all that his hands were cuffed. They were pretty pathetic cuffs, but show-cuffs or not, they'd still be a hindrance and a weapon as flimsy and restraining as they were.

"The Queen sends her greetings, Pirate King." Xanxus drawled, getting a good look at the man, face to face.

Now that got a blink of surprise.

**Measuring**

They stared at each other, silently assessing one another. Roger was obviously surprised, but he hid it moderately well. Xanxus however wasn't using his time to let his mind wander.

Xanxus looked not merely at the still robust physical body but the entirety of the Pirate King. Most of the Varia's more diplomatic assassins perfected what was known as 'assessment.' Generally it was a skill acquired more by users of Sun Flames but it wasn't limited to that. Doctors did it all the time, but they were generally in denial over the inevitable eventuality of death since they were paid to prevent it and belief was a powerful thing. As for his killing colleagues well, that was an accumulation of experience of death. Assessment was basically predicting the time and manner of death of an individual. Some were disturbingly good at it.

Xanxus was moderately fair at it but it didn't take a genius to notice a flagging life-force. If Roger wasn't as strong as he was in flames -they called it haki here- then the man would have already been dead. He was going to die within the month even without the execution.

**Questions**

Xanxus raised an eyebrow at the expression on Roger's face. It was a queer mix, but there was relief, surprise and hope. The mustache made it look very silly though.

"Am I dreaming your existence? I don't notice you." The broader man was clearly puzzled about that. It was nice to know that his skill set was unusual enough in this world to be practically unheard of even by someone as powerful and well-traveled as the Pirate King. That was a good thing to know. It made later trips to break into places much easier and less stressful for him.

"It's a rare skill, but not particularly difficult." The assassin acting as a messenger informed the pirate.

This put a pouting expression on the Pirate King's face, even as he tilted his head in puzzlement. His eyes closed as he thought or listened and then came to a conclusion.

"I had thought there were hardly any of your kind left." The Pirate King now seemed as excited as a brat on his birthday but that was clearly tempered by knowledge or experience. If Rosso really was in Impel Down, well Rosso was Rosso and not what you'd call discreet. Cautious, yes, but unforgettable? No, Rosso was flamboyant and dramatic and left a mark in people's minds that would last and last.

"It's amazing what washes up on the tides." Xanxus deadpanned. The assassin had the feeling that this was not going to be the last time his identity was mistaken as it had happened quite a bit already. It had already proved useful and would prevent people from looking any further into his nonexistent background.

"True, true. The tides of destiny do twist in odd ways. She's fine isn't she?"

"Worried but strongly resolved. She's my newest charge, as I'm in her debt and curious." Xanxus explained. It wasn't like the dying man would speak of his existence to anyone unless he wanted to risk Rouge and their child and his captors were clearly more interested in executing him than torturing him for information.

"That's even better. I know she'll be safe now."

"That's overly trusting." Xanxus pointed out.

"I'll trust in your sense of honor and your damnable curiosity. Any questions since I'm assuming you're as capable of making things as unseen and unfelt as Rosso?"

"Plenty." Finally, someone who would give him straight answers and whom he didn't need to worry about dealing with afterwards.

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><p>Oh and I decided every 100 reviews I'd write a side story prompt. Look for it tomorrow. Maybe.<p> 


	24. Chapter 24

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the fastidious Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Reasons<strong>

"I understand why you didn't take her to sea. Is it for the crew or for freedom of choice that you charged Garp with such a thing?" Xanxus asked, as that would be an immediate hard question.

"Can't it be for both? I'll not burden either if I can help it. Plus I wager not a one of them have any clue what to do with a babe and a child besides. They were rough enough on the poor cabin boys. Shishishi."

The idea of a member of a pirate crew, likely full of lifelong bachelors, attempting to raise a kid would be more amusing if Xanxus wasn't in that exact position minus the crew. At least he had Rouge because baby books might tell him what to and what not to do, but babies were easier than toddlers and small children; they ate, they crapped and they slept. Toddlers and small children were mobile could communicate to a degree, meaning they were loud shrieking creatures unless they were a genius like Bel; in which case murderous could be added to it.

Xanxus at least understood psychology and had an idea of how and how not to raise people from getting a few of the Varia's members into a less psychotic state or broken state. Not every Varia member was Bel, ready and willing to kill anyone which was both good and bad; Bel sucked at the more diplomatic assassinations and despite having a well-earned reputation as 'Prince the Ripper' Bel could restrain himself to just the target as a result of conditioning and training under the Varia.

Most other assassins however were broken to various degrees, knew it and covered for it; Xanxus had the oddest and most loyal subordinates in the entire Vongola, as the ranking-trash had determined one lovely day when he had been kidnapped to rank the members against each other in skills and talent and not in the entire mafia pool of statistics; statistics on a group that large to be 'the entire mafia' were generally misleading. Rating those in the Varia against others in the Varia at least allowed him some control over the statistics and was usable information in the 'this squad needs more training exercises for this' sense.

"Selfishness aside, you do know you wrote off your lady love as dead already?" Xanxus was a little ticked off at that.

"Eh?! Oh, man I did, didn't I?" Roger grimaced and chuckled with a wry smile. "We've long since known that. I've been a dead man walking for several years already and she knew what association with me be would do to her. The only difference is that I've had a better idea of when I was going to die and she didn't; just that she would die for it."

That explained why Rouge's resolution was so firm and the reason she already knew what to expect. She had probably long planned this out. Roger might be a child-like man with prideful depths and a not entirely buried rage lying in wait within him but the Pirate King wasn't completely stupid.

"With her as my charge, I'll be aiming to prevent that."

"I'd pray that you'd succeed but a dead man's prayers don't amount to much do they?" The soon to be executed prisoner asked.

"So what are you planning to do with your execution?"

**Expectations**

"I'll be giving up my treasure. I've had it all planned out with an old friend of mine for a while now. It'll be perfect and just the spark to light off a new age and set the world spinning again! Shishishi!"

Xanxus blinked, translated exactly what that meant from what he knew of the world, the man's personality and other factors. Then Xanxus spoke. "So you're going to send a lot of fucking idiots to their damn deaths on a glorious treasure hunt in the stupid quest to become you."

"You don't have to say it like that. You're sounding like Rayleigh when he's being mean."

"You know that becoming you is impossible. Being your successor on the other hand is possible, as is finding your treasure with a lot of luck and a lot of skill. In the process a lot of information, secrets and unsavory things are going get dug up in the chaos, possibly confirmed independently and it's going to possibly doom the World Government due to it's own corruption and malicious beginnings. When the World Government falls it's going to put the world back to the way it was supposed to be right?"

"Rahahahaha! At the end of my life I find another guy capable of the same insight as I! Even Rayleigh wasn't that sharp!" Then he burst into laughter again, which turned into a wet sounding cough.

"That's not contagious is it?" Xanxus asked, more concerned for his own health than Roger's.

"Nah, it shouldn't be. Crocus said it wasn't and none of the crew ever picked it up either."

"So it's either a parasite, a fungus or bloodline based." Xanxus knew quite a lot about medicine because the Varia did not actually have a doctor with a medical degree in the ranks. They generally didn't meet Varia requirements or weren't assassin material. Or if they were like Shamal, and didn't join.

People with other degrees, and even PhD's existed in the Varia's ranks but not an actual medical degree unless you count the vet that retired to housekeeping. Lussuria was capable enough at dealing with physical trauma, but actual medical knowledge was pooled rather than crammed into one specific assassin's skull. A lot of medical knowledge overlapped for both professions after all, and most assassins had a wonderful knowledge of lethal doses verses effective doses for medicine and a disturbing grasp on anatomy. Extensive training gave them all at least a paramedic's standard knowledge with a large amount of emergency field medicine. None of them may not be doctors, but they could be damn fine field surgeons.

"Eh, it's a mystery. Crocus didn't know and he's one of the best doctors in the world!" Roger proclaimed.

Xanxus didn't know if the boast was true or not, but he supposed it was possible to find out if he ever found Crocus the doctor and not the flower. Xanxus blamed the fact that he had been naming weapons after flowers for the fact that the meaning of Crocus came to mind. Cheerfulness and Abuse Not; fitting for a doctor.

"I could always steal your corpse and see what grows out of it." The assassin supplied.

It would certainly pass the time, although where to put him? It wouldn't be the first time he'd have a dead body in his hotel room -usually it was a result of Lussuria, but sometimes they did have to transport bodies to wherever as part of making a statement; the job most fought over within the Varia was presenting the head to a boss by dropping it on their desk, bypassing security to and from the boss' office.

Keeping a corpse in his room at the House of Spades was reckless since he did spent a lot of fucking time out of that room and it wasn't the most secure room ever. He also knew a very nice formula for preserving bodies after death in ways that were disturbingly life-like also due to the same martial artist. Everyone tried not to think about what Lussuria did with the preserved corpses; it helped them sleep better.

"Couldn't you find some place to bury me nicely instead?" Roger asked, making puppy-eyes at him.

Xanxus wasn't sure if he should be pissed off or amused. He had seen much better attempts at such an expression and Roger's face wasn't exactly made for it either; too fierce. The mustache made the entire expression comical. It quivered.

"I'd have to charge you for that, as I don't work for free. Not even for your Queen."

The Pirate King frowned a bit, and thought. "I know! You can charge Rayleigh!"

"And how would I prove that I knew you?" The man who strove to be Decimo countered, not letting Roger's enthusiasm carry him away.

"Eh, that's tricky. No, that wouldn't work, that's pretty well known, um, well I'll be dead anyway so there's this story about Rayleigh and the ladies in, no that made the papers. Oh, how we met is a nice story!"

The bribery attempt was a nice thought and it gave Xanxus an in on something he was actually interested in. It also would keep Roger talking, so information could flow in too. Letting the man babble away let Xanxus hear a lot and if it was mostly junk, Xanxus could direct the flow of the conversation with a few questions or comments.

"Why don't you tell me all of them, as many as you care to remember anyway. We've got a while before they decide to transport you. I can disappear with ease at any time."

**Heritage**

Xanxus learned a lot about Roger as the dying man picked his favorite stories to tell; anything from his maternal grandmother who raised him and gave him his straw hat to how he felt about his crew and semi-random things about them. This did include a few embarrassing tales about Rayleigh, as they amused Roger and Rayleigh wasn't going to kill him for telling. Roger would be dead by then after all.

The assassin would normally not care but considering his charge's state he had something of a duty to learn this in case Rouge didn't make it. Rouge had filled him in on some of her childhood adventures just to make conversation, where Xanxus proved that his intuition was correct about Rouge's background. Almost stalker-ish uncanny.

Roger's background was a bit of a surprise except that it sort of wasn't. There was a bit of dilute 'gaki' blood as Roger called it in his line, which normally didn't manifest itself as anything major, especially not as major as Roger's gift of 'hearing the voice of all things.' That gift allowed Roger to learn all sorts of things that made the World Government very keen to kill him.

That did explain why they weren't torturing him as Xanxus suspected that some of those truths would break weaker people and the government didn't want their more morally upright flunkies to find out. It did explain why Roger named his ship the 'Oro Jackson' which translated to 'Gold Jackson,' which was his grandfather's name, or close enough. Apparently his father and grandfather hid the fact they were Ds and what that meant. Being known as Gold Roger was therefore correct in the World Government's paperwork but that wasn't really his name. He really did whine about the fact that so many people got his name wrong.

Roger didn't touch on a few things but Xanxus saw no reason to get too curious since he could fill in the blanks very well. He had his suspicions and lots of circumstantial evidence; the Will of D was mentioned, as was the history of the Void Century written on the indestructible stones in a dead language. There was also a bit about friends everywhere and even more enemies but that was to be expected. Any semi-intelligent tyrannical government would hate those like Roger, who were powerful free spirits and uncontrollable. A true Sky and completely content with his place in the world; why couldn't the Sawada-brat be more like this man? Instead the Sawada-brat was an indecisive idiot. Xanxus prayed Bel was pestering him into working and the scientists too.

Admittedly, the World Government was likely hunting those friends of Roger down whenever possible but killing them off would wait until the Pirate King was dead. Mentioning that would just be superfluous and waste time as they both already knew that.

**Acceptance**

Roger had known he was dying, so he had done his entire last trip with his dying will and had enjoyed every second of his previous adventures. He was ready to die, after all the fun he had.

"So what's the reason you asked for stories? Something to tell my kid or something more?"

"Can't it be both?" Xanxus repeated Roger's words back at him. Then because Xanxus actually _liked_ Roger he decided to give him a little information; the illusion of give and take was important in any deal. "Mostly because the kid is a kid and a kid is more easily influenced by opinion since they tend to care about things like that. You've already been demonized and how I plan to steal your body is only going to make it seem more so. Then I might write a book showing that you're human too after all."

Roger was interesting and though no tyranny worth its salt would allow such a book go unbanned, the banning would just mean copies cost more and would be more sought-after. Xanxus just needed to find a publisher or steal his own printing press.

"So you're going to steal my corpse in a show of those flames? Cool! But I won't get to see it... you're a mean mercenary." The Pirate King's face was very animated in its quick slide from happiness to pouting.

"Assassin, actually." Not that Xanxus was offended, as it wasn't something to be offended over.

There wasn't much difference between mercenaries and assassins in terms of what they sold. They sold a service and it was murder. The difference between them was in the average level of intelligence, the amount of education and training, with assassins actually managing to have class while killing. Mercenaries tended to be idiots, focus entirely on open or urban warfare and wouldn't know how to sneak into an upscale party, kill the host in front of twenty socialites, the live orchestra and staff; nor could they then leave the party with the same easy invisibility they arrived with. Those sort of missions were some of the easiest for the Varia.

"My apologies."

"You suck at lying too. You're not sorry at all."

Roger really wasn't sorry for anything; he lived his life with no regrets, no hesitation, and little regard for it. The fact that he survived that long anyway was a testament to him having the Devil's own luck and his own out-of-the-box brilliance.

**Transfer**

They both noticed the approaching marines at the same time. They weren't even close to the brig, but Roger cut off in the middle of his denial and boast at being a great liar. Xanxus attached himself to the ceiling, disappearing from sight and other senses.

Story time was over and the countdown to the Pirate King's end was truly beginning. The Pirate King would be dead on the 10th of October; not quite Xanxus' strangest ever birthday treat but it was up there. Levi was lucky that he wasn't shot with his Wrath Flames; instead he was turned into a human pincushion as Xanxus had flung a half dozen knives into him. Levi's reflexes saved him from death but didn't save him from getting tossed outside through a stone wall.

Some things were far too inappropriate to be birthday gifts, even from fucked-in-the-head assassins. Xanxus knew he was easy to shop for because he was practical. It prevented a lot of posturing, wheedling and pointless spending that happened from the Vongola's allies hoping to gain his favor as Xanxus had established a reputation as the most dangerous and intelligent of Nono's sons. The Ninth had stopped with the birthday celebrations for him by the time he Varia which Xanxus was thankful for; the political shenanigans and polite bullshit was aggravating after a while.

He didn't need it from the Varia because a lot of the Varia didn't have the understanding to know what was within bounds for a birthday gift or not, on top of lots of excess cash from missions; they just knew that giving gifts was what they were supposed to do. It made Christmas gifts unpredictable like the sharpened femur turned bone-ax from some corpse. Xanxus was surprisingly fond of that for all it was usually kept out of sight; it was a touch too macabre for the office even if the more unpredictable flight path made it harder for troublesome subordinates to dodge. Somehow it had acquired a nickname and perceived to be the warning for 'last chance.'

Still it was a shame that Roger was dying, as Xanxus sort of liked the man as he was reminded of a more tolerable version of Bel. Both were prideful, childish men with exceptional abilities, capable of mass murder on a whim with superior intelligence for all that Bel was taught and Roger learned through experience. Roger had more of a reason than a whim to commit mass murder but that didn't mean the reasons weren't flimsy.

Really, Roger had been so useful in ways that the Pirate King hadn't realized. Confirmation of things was always nice and getting it without giving the game away was doubly so and something to be expected of someone who was of Varia Quality. It was also good to confirm that even without his support structure and cast adrift where a good half of his education was useless, he still had what it took. While he had asked some direct questions, they were minor, steer-the-conversation sort of questions. Direct factual answers were all well and good but what a man believed to be true and what was true were different things. Getting the story answered why they believed it to be true as all the elements were there and direct questioning tended to make people defensive.

A lot of worry eased as Roger was led away. He doubted that he'd see a man as powerful as Roger ever again; the guy might have been even stronger than Reborn if he was healthy. Xanxus knew that Reborn would probably win since he was a smart and tricky fighter but if he couldn't kill Roger fast... well, tales of Roger's strength weren't exaggerated so his stamina probably wasn't over-stated either. Fights between powerful people here could last for _days_ and while Reborn was a monster in terms of strength the fact that Roger could go all-out for days did not bode well if the fight lasted long enough.

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><p>I have posted a one-shot involving the Acrobaleno. It's sadder than I expected. I also posted 'Pirated Perspectives' which contains other perspectives, outtakes and the like from this story. It will also contain prompts from ever 100th reviewer. Read and review.<p> 


	25. Chapter 25

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the thorough Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Out<strong>

Sneaking out proved easier than sneaking in, which was more proof that the marines were overconfident in their power thanks to their prisoner's cheerful docility. In short, Xanxus walked out right behind them and hitched a ride on the boat back to the base. It was pathetically easy as unlike with Garp there were a number of people on this boat so sneaking aboard didn't require excessive harmonization and using a lot of flame abilities while staying invisible.

He just walked on the escort boat and avoided getting bumped into, while invisible.

Most of the escorting marines didn't feel strong enough to take on the Varia's recruits before the Varia's conditioning and training program they had to survive before even being considered Varia Quality. What were all the powerful and competent officers doing? Sleeping? Paperwork? Getting drunk?

Stealth operations were also suppose to be discreet and secure; discretion required experience and security required strength. As even a man as eccentric as Garp had proven that even he could be sneaky when it counted, Xanxus was very suspicious about the lack of strong personnel and having very serious doubts about the intelligence of those in charge of security here.

He was also pretty sure Roger knew he was there. The man was chuckling quite a bit and freaking out his escort.

**Repose**

Xanxus had intended to spend the 9th of October creating more guns for future funds, but with the Pirate King's request to have a decent burial he had to first acquire the chemicals to preserve the body and a place to keep it until the furor of the spectacle died down. A coffin too, but that could happen later. So someplace the marines wouldn't look for a corpse or other suspicious things was needed first.

The assassin could have ignored the request -no one else knew it was made- but he knew it would nag at him. He'd also feel guilt, which was an emotion Xanxus was uncomfortable with as he rarely felt it.

Xanxus knew he was a half step from insanity by conventional civilian understanding of 'healthy and sane,' so the things he felt guilt for wasn't for being a lying, murdering member of a bloody mafia family; that was normal for him to do and be, except Xanxus was better at it than most and proud of his skill. That might be because he saw no reason to feel guilty for doing what he was doing, so any tale-tells for lying wouldn't show up and remorse was usually for any lost potential resource or talent.

The few things he felt a trace of guilt about were leaving the Varia to Squalo without a say in the matter -again- and not assigning anyone to annoy the Sawada-brat for whenever an issue that needed him to act came up. Him not being pestered into being decisive was bad because without being pressed the trash dithered and presented weakness. That weakness would harm the Vongola and Xanxus would _not_ have that.

If -_when_- he got back he needed to assign someone that job for the next time he was out of reach for a while, possibly Lussuria or Bel, both of whom knew why he did what he did and agreed it was important. Bel did enjoy the damn pestering quite a bit, but that's because he was an eager to please brat who would bring the Sawada-brat up to the Varia base where he could have Squalo say all that he wanted to say -_loudly_- without the Sawada-brat's idiotic guardians making a scene; Squalo was diplomatic like that.

Lussuria was getting older and slowing down. It wasn't impacting his performance as an assassin yet, but the Okama was already training his replacement. While the Okama Sun Officer took care of a lot of little things the Varia needed, he also had enough free time to train, teach and design uniforms between missions. Lussuria had time management down to an art and like all Suns, liked to stay active. Thankfully Lussuria also like to stay mentally active, which kept him relatively busy with fussing over details like uniforms. It would make the eventual transition over to housekeeping easier.

Housekeeping was a catch-all term for everything needed to keep the Varia running and functioning as the best assassins in the business. The housekeeping staff was a mix of retired assassins, relatives of too infamous assassins, and the occasional stray. In effect they worked as both groundskeepers, maids, butlers, chefs, and any other job like fetching, carrying and delivering food. They also had other functions like teaching, researching, hacking, poison creations, weapon maintenance, and maintaining the mental health of both active and inactive assassins. Lussuria would stay in the Varia until he died, but he'd probably spend the next few decades in house-keeping. Having Lussuria assigned to pester the Sawada-brat would prevent Lussuria from spending all his free time with his corpse collection.

Which is why he found himself outside of Rosso's shop. Rosso was draped over the counter in an exhausted but satisfied state but clearly perplexed at why he was here, so she looked at him curiously.

"Do you charge rent if I store something in your basement for a bit?" Xanxus asked.

**Formula**

Strangely, Xanxus did manage to find all the chemicals and necessities that Lussuria normally used to preserve his collection of dead bodies and boy toys with enough ease that he was able to score lunch off of the Clydes afterwards and put in enough time at the workshop to assemble another rifle. The weapons were currently in his room at the House of Spades. He was getting quite the stockpile of them actually.

His hotel room had quite a strange collection of things as it stood: clothes, lots of projectile weapons, medical texts, travel magazines, scientific journals and the remaining supplies to flame-proof clothing. Not that the clothing couldn't be burned but it would take some extreme effort and Lightning Flames could still turn clothing into armor and hair feathers into knives without destroying it. Xanxus would be more worried about the reactions of whoever on the cleaning staff found it if he hadn't hidden everything already and the only cleaning service provided was laundry being picked up and dropped off outside the room. Apparently it was the House of Spade's policy to not enter a client's room while it was being paid for. That was only fucking sensible if you had dubious clientele.

He did turn down the offer of watching the execution with the Clydes. He already had a spot marked out for both the view and the likelihood of having a clear path to the stand.

That reminded him, he wanted a camera and not just an illusionary one. As it was a bit too late for a store to be selling them that left theft as an option. If he was a reporter, where would he be? He paused as he saw the Marine Base. Then again, the Marine Bounty Office likely had the best cameras going and the long lenses he'd need to take clear pictures from his intended position.

Walking out of the base with a new stolen camera, Xanxus had to conclude that all the marines there had no chance at detecting him. Being able to turn invisible with Mist Flames was one of the better uses for the flames and with presence concealment the only way he could be found was if he made an amateur mistake like walking in a puddle or running into someone. They didn't even have den-den mushi cameras either which made sneaking and stealing stupidly easy. The base seemed entirely underfunded in terms of security.

Then after returning to his hotel room, he remembered that he could have made himself wings to fly over to that fucking warship. Not considering that option at all meant there was something up and screwing with his thinking and it wasn't Rosso. Mists were the best known for mind-tricks and mental screws but he knew how to prevent and protect himself from all the typical and even the more unusual ones.

What the fuck caused that massive of an oversight?

**Shout-out**

"My fortune is yours for the taking... but you'll have to find it first. I left everything I own at that place!"

Xanxus took a few more photos for his own personal reasons. That smile needed remembering in just more than the minds of those who saw the execution. He saw the blades lower and then he was moving from his rooftop perch.

Mostly though he had been taking a number of canvas shots of the crowd because he was picking out who was who. He was pretty sure he had identified a few of Roger's crew and other important people despite their attempts or lack of them to blend. Nobody was so much as deadening their presence, making it easy for Xanxus to match face, strength and aura. He might not ever meet them again, but the information could be useful one day. He did that on his way to his rooftop perch.

Now, to keep his end of the deal.

Stupid nagging guilt. This part would at least would be fun.

It really was fun and the rain was surprisingly helpful in hiding his scent and Roger's too as he slung the still-dripping corpse over his shoulder and legged it across the rooftops.

**Demonic**

"Did you hear Xanxus? Roger really was a demon! The marines were going to remove his body after the execution but then his corpse went up in flames despite the rain! Maybe he was really a demon!"

Xanxus could only nod, as Sammy's statement came as he was busy eating steak. Melrose really had done a wonderful job on it and Sammy lacked the entire concept of tact, like most Storms did. Well, she probably did; conmen and women could be anything, even to their own families as practice made perfect. Enough practice and any tells could be manipulated for their benefit.

He held in his habitual irritation at being interrupted but seeing how people were viewing what he'd done was important. There were a fuck-ton of people moving in and out of Lougetown now, as really most people weren't around to see what he'd done. After Roger was executed a lot of the crowd had left, and were in the process of leaving so the amount of witnesses were lower by several thousand. The rain had only helped further as it convinced people to move and seek shelter away from the square.

"Devil Fruit?" Cordelia mentioned.

"Ah, someone could have just stolen his corpse. Bastard had a lot of enemies that wouldn't care if he was a corpse." Barret theorized.

"Seems like a lot of effort just for that." Melrose remarked. "Maybe it was a last request sort of thing? The marines don't bury those they execute after all. They just toss them into the ocean weighed down with enough rocks to not float up, so it's not even a proper sea burial."

Xanxus knew there was a reason Melrose was his favorite of the Clydes beyond the boy's impressive culinary skills. The boy had good instincts.

Rosso however was a bit too shocked at having the Pirate King's corpse in her basement to protest the fact it was there and Xanxus' efforts in preserving it.

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><p>I'm going with what Roger said in the manga more or less.<p> 


	26. Chapter 26

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the engaging Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Amused<strong>

"So when you said 'something' Rosso thought you mean stolen goods, a woman or even a pirate's hoard. So why does Rosso have the Pirate King's corpse in her basement?" Rosso, sounded both amused and furious about that. Mists were damn crazy like that.

Xanxus really wanted to laugh at the image presented by Rosso. The little girl that Rosso was possessing looked as if she was playing dress-up and imitating her mother due to the rather sophisticated outfit she was wearing. The absurdity of the situation bore mentioning as the both of them were in Rosso's side-room, a small table set for tea between them. Rosso's side-room was much like her show room, smelling of incense and sage, decorated in thick fabric and had whimsically wrought decorations, which included on the table and chairs. Then there were the carved wooden decorations and statues peeking out between vegetative greenery. Rosso's side-room seemed to be a blend between Rosso and Seta's style choices but it was ultimately her shop.

"It was a request to properly bury him. I just needed a space that the marines wouldn't search should they think someone stashed the corpse somewhere."

Unsaid was that Rosso would prevent the marines from noticing the corpse regardless of her feelings on the matter as she'd have a lot of explaining to do if it was found. She would also want to protect her stash of jewelry and gems that were less than legally required. Letting the basement be known period would be bad for her, as Xanxus had looked up the mind-numbingly boring tax and contract law for companies during a research binge. It was a strange world where theft, fraud and tax evasion were crimes practically equal with murder. That was probably one of the more annoying parts about the 'Absolute Justice' philosophy that the World Government was for.

"Which tells me that I should mind my own business and let you do as you like, right Xanxus?"

"I wanted another opinion on a few things so a request for a proper burial wasn't worth more than the confirmation."

Rosso, being the body-possessing bitch she was, didn't react to Xanxus implied admission of breaking marine security for any length of time. She probably knew how much they fucking sucked at security anyway. Being a Mist, she could also further sabotage it with ease. Security systems and guards were play toys to well trained Mists, even if they did have some basic training against them. Against people who had no damn clue? That's stupidly easy.

Even a Sky like him could have fun with it so long as he could figure out what had made him stupid while sneaking to and from the ship Roger was on. Flying with Sky Flames was out due to how bright they were but creating a pair of wings and flying to the ship with Mist Flames was possible. That he didn't even think about it until later said he was either getting soft, getting stupid or there was outside influence. He had been polite but he was still a murderous and unfriendly bastard on a good day. He was still adjusting to this dimension but he knew enough to feel comfortable getting by now and he knew that they had no lights focused on the bay and warship. Clearly it had to be an outside influence.

"The rumors of demon involvement aside?" She asked with a wry smirk.

"They were already there, since they were calling Roger a devil already. Obviously, he's not." Xanxus logically pointed out.

Xanxus being raised in Italy was thankful for the Church's generosity back when he and his mother had relied on it for food on occasion, and was about as good a Catholic as you could be while still being a mafia assassin of Varia Quality; which was more Catholic than people thought. That they even had a Varia Quality Father, who did hold Sunday and Holiday Mass said as much for all that the Father had retired from field work. He was technically a member of the housekeeping staff, but more specialized in keeping track of the mental health of the Varia's members. Confession was good to find out gossip and more about the more religious members. The man was a staple member of the Varia since he had been a member of it since before Tyr.

Roger had been a prideful man, but certainly no fallen angel.

"He's a corpse, a headless corpse. In my basement."

"He's a mummy actually. A very well preserved one." Xanxus countered somewhat huffily, just to be contrary.

"As if that makes it any better." Rosso chuckled as she set down her empty cup of tea.

**Coffin**

"So I suppose you need a coffin then?"

"It needs to be one fit for Gol D. Roger, the man who could hear the 'voice of everything.' Anything less is a damn disgrace." Xanxus had standards; if he was going to do this it was damn well going to be done right. The Varia was an organization that demanded perfection; anything less was death.

"True, and I liked Roger-kun too." Rosso admitted. "He was rather interesting to talk to, certainly the most interesting prisoner in Level 6."

"The marines, if they're smart are talking to people who make and sell coffins, so getting one in advance or just buying one without a known death in the family is going to be suspicious. Same for crates and other things a body and head could be shipped in."

"Typical of the marines. They're good at gathering information but acting on it or following through is one of their bigger weaknesses, especially in East Blue."

"And you don't want to keep a mummy in your basement for long, nor do you want to be connected to it." Xanxus added.

"Unfortunately I don't have coffins and my crystal crates aren't big enough for grown men... I do have a solution though, but it is ultimately Seta's choice."

**Forest**

"So you want a coffin for the Pirate King?" Seta asked. "He is distant kin if he had the gift of 'hearing the voice of-"

"He did." Both Rosso and Xanxus confirmed in stereo.

Rosso being a native to this dimension at least knew this as a fact concerning the 'gaki' as Roger had called them. Which was an odd term for it; 'hungry ghosts,' really? Plus Rosso had probably discussed things with Roger in Impel Down while being prison buddies. Admittedly, Xanxus was willing to admit that 'brat' probably could apply to most people, even those with Flames.

Xanxus knew Roger had no reason to lie so he either believed the shit he was shoveling whole-heartedly or really was telling the truth as he'd knew it. As Xanxus had not had any difficulty catching Roger in a lie before and this was a different dimension, he was willing to accept that Roger had a flame-based bloodline gift like the Vongola hyper-intuition that allowed him to hear flame-imbued objects, and possibly more once he knew how to do it. He had never seen any of the Poneglyphs that Roger had mentioned but he knew of ways to make indestructible material by conventional means and how to carve it; it was one of the basics of Flame Technology.

"-all things.' So I'll do it." Seta finished.

The tattooed man sighed and allowed a bracelet to fall out of long shirt sleeve. The bracelet, Xanxus noted was decorated in a pattern of vines and leaves. In the middle of the bracelet was a chain attached and connected to the chain was a ring similarly decorated with vines, topped with a green gem. Seta allowed the chained ring to fall and then slipped his finger into it.

The ring blazed a different sort of green than a Lightning.

**Growth**

"That's one of the Earth Flames." Xanxus stated, looking at it intensely. He didn't know much about them; not attending the Inheritance Ceremony had left him rather out of the loop on the whole Shimon mess. The Sawada-brat and his guardians had been the ones to neutralize that threat. Later during the Acrobaleno Trials, the Shimon-brat used gravity but he and the rest of his famiglia were taken out by the Vindice. Since then the Shimon had managed to avoid conflicts with ease so gathering information on Earth Flames was next to impossible unless they wanted to spark a conflict.

"Yes. It is the Forest Flame. Its attribute is 'growth.' So I can turn a block of wood-" Here, Seta picked up a scrap of wood, applied his flame to it and it grew it into a small tree.

"Handy for coffins, is it not?" Rosso asked.

"Ship-building too, I expect, but that's not what I want to ask for. Can you tell me more about Earth Flames?"

"You're a Sky, so why do you need to know about Earth Flames?"

"Aren't you a Mist yourself?"

"Yes, Rosso is, but this body, Cotone is a Desert." Rosso replied as she gestured to the body she was inhabiting.

How interesting; at least he had the kid's name now. Whether the mind that went with the body was still present also was however another matter entirely. Rosso seemed to be ever present in Cotone.

**Similar**

"They're similar enough." Xanxus replied, because he knew that possession of someone without similar flames took far more effort than possessing someone who had a different flame type.

Possessing others was something that only actual Mists -or Deserts he supposed- could do as he knew from asking Mammon about the Sawada-brat's duel Mist Guardians post Ring Battle. He was less curious about the people and more concerned about the ability. In short he was worried about possible infiltration in the Varia, which would be annoying as the Mist Squad was vital in cover-up operations but possessing people was a rare skill and required extreme affinity; either bloodline, personality or some other criteria like flame purity.

"Yes, both Mist and Desert Flames deal in illusions."

"The Flames of the Earth and The Flames of the Sky can be considered 'similar' but we both know that's not the 'same' don't we?"

"You know of Sky Flames and can uses them well enough to use the individual facets but you don't know of Earth Flames?"

"Mad mother remember?" Xanxus prompted her. So very true but so very misleading.

"Oh, so Rosso will have to educate you about Flames of the Earth. How annoying."

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><p>Oh, and next chapter things get a bit squicky as Rosso demands a price of memory. It's not a happy memory either. Tell me if you think the rating should change then, okay?<p> 


	27. Chapter 27

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the understanding Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p>WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS M CONTENT<p>

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><p><strong>Tell<strong>

"Should Rosso let Seta tell the stories? He's probably more factual about them than she..." Rosso debated girlishly with herself. "But Seta is so dry about the information..."

"I don't care so long as I get told what I want to know."

"He's so demanding Seta." Rosso pointed out with a childish glee that had a wicked woman turning the words from a complaint into a husky critique.

Xanxus found himself glad that he hadn't asked about why Rosso was possessing Cotone or what Seta was to the young girl. Some things were not meant to be known for the sake of a man's sanity. His sanity was dubious enough as it was, even by mafia standards.

"Still, information comes at a price. A story for a story. Tell Rosso and Seta your earliest memory."

Xanxus only kept himself from reacting by dint of expecting some sort of exchange, but of all the things to ask for and it had to be that?

There was a reason Xanxus did not talk about his past, beyond 'shameful' beginnings, not that he was remotely ashamed of where he'd come from. He wouldn't know what to do with shame except shoot it. It happened, he survived, he got stronger. It was what made him into who he was and not some weak-willed scum.

He just got so fucking pissed off things tended to burn.

**Confirmation**

"How aware is Cotone while you possess her?" He asked first. Not out of kindness but concern for Cotone's mental state. It wouldn't do to mess with Rosso's host after all, she might take offence even if it was incidental.

It would be incidental too, for all that Rosso asked for it.

It had to be rather precarious already due to the sustained possession by Rosso as it was not a sane child's natural inclination to let another take control of their body unless there was a shit-ton of trauma prior to that; if the Sawada-brat's female Mist Guardian were any younger, Xanxus had little doubt that she would have developed a mild case of multiple personality disorder by now and that was fucking dangerous for a Mist to have and it was damn dangerous for fucking everyone. Some personalities did 'kill' other ones after all and weren't content to stop there either. Letting Rosso control her body all the damn time was not a 'sane' response at all.

"Not very. She's very shy. Is it that bad of an experience? I could ask for another price." Rosso not-explained as her eyes sparkled with triumph at a 'weakness' she had found. Mists were such fucking vultures at times.

"No, I just needed to know how much to censor it."

"Censor?" Seta asked.

He felt more than saw the surprise and concern the man with the odd-green Earth Flames held. Xanxus however chose not to explain further; better to get the whole business over with.

**Memory**

"My mother was mad, as I've said before. She was also a whore, which is how she paid for everything we needed."

Xanxus took careful, controlled breaths and reminded himself that he had already killed those that took advantage of his mother's madness. His mother had lucid moments but that didn't mean that her reality and actual reality matched up. It just meant you could understand what she was saying. This included who paid and how much money they handed over, because she could be and had been convinced of them paying her more than they actually had on multiple occasions.

His childhood introduction to math had been counting the money they paid, calculating the debt they owed and what needed to be paid for the services they ordered. One of his mother's costumers at least gave him that lesson, which did eventually backfire on him when his debt ran too high and he tried to force himself on his mother anyway; Xanxus burned him alive and was glad for the warmth as it was fucking freezing at the time. The ashes were swept up and trashed, a couple of candles were lit and he convinced his mother to cook something and that was how their Christmas was spent that year.

"This included the place we stayed at."

It was an apartment building, and in such a state that looking back Xanxus didn't know how it wasn't condemned or deemed a public health hazard. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed not to die of some damned disease either. They had a small apartment, one bathroom, one kitchenette and one larger room that was nominally their living room and bedroom split in half by an old sheet stretched across like it was a screen.

The toilet was seemingly always backed up, so flushing was only reserved for after a crap or if someone -usually one of his mother's more drunken customers- managed to vomit in it and not over the floor; pissing was done in the sink or tub and letting some water run after it was the rule, followed by washing your hands. The kitchen was seemingly always bare except for bugs and groceries were kept in the fridge's freezer because at least that part of the fridge got cold enough for food to not ruin in it. One of the walls stayed suspiciously damp almost year round -except in winter when it froze- and the bedroom was drafty.

That was their home until Xanxus was seven, when he realize he could do something other than be his mother's pimp and caretaker. When he realized he could kill with his flames. Ignorance, as Xanxus knew, was not bliss. It could be Hell.

"The price for letting us stay was supposed to be paid twice a month, but usually he managed to get it once a week because as landlord he was suppose to fix shit in the apartment, electricity, plumbing, whatever and get paid for it. Occasionally he did, but it would usually break within the week or something else would break soon after."

Xanxus reached for calm, heedless of anything else, as he needed serenity or else Rosso would lose her damn shop and possibly the entire block. He needed calm. That psychotic, unhealthy calm that meant he was so far removed from his own emotions that they ceased to be relevant.

"One of the conditions was that I had to watch, every damn time, and _that_ is my earliest memory."

**Unease**

Xanxus with formidable mental discipline divorced any rage, hatred and other emotions from his current state. He managed this by reminding himself that the landlord was long dead, dead, _deadandashes_ by his hand, as were a number of his mother's other customers including the neighbor who liked to bring his buddies.

To this day, no official had managed to find out what had caused all the inhabitants of the small apartment building to disappear like that. To be honest, no one actually cared, other than a few officials concerned with a new accelerant or the like. Accelerants weren't found because Xanxus had let his wrath burn them all to ash but that didn't mean the heat didn't warp the ceiling and leave a mark.

"I killed him and a number of my mother's customers when I was seven, so that history is already ashes. Tell me about the Earth Flames."

Xanxus had known of the existence and details of gang-bangs, circle-jerks and a stunning variety of kinks before he even knew words for them. He purposely wanted something to distract him now; as it stood he was going to monopolize Barret's shop for the rest of the day and throw himself into his work before he could approach something resembling rational much less civil. Tomorrow was likely a lost cause for civil as well.

Seta, looking far paler spoke and told the myth. Rosso kept her mouth shut; apparently she did have some sense of self-preservation.

**Creation**

"In the beginning there was Earth and Sky, not that they knew themselves as such until they came together to create Order from Chaos. Order was what named them Earth and Sky as much as they were Mother and Father.

"Order then organized the Sky; Order created Clouds that floated, Mists that spiraled around, Suns to illuminate, Rains to soothe, Storms to rage and the Lightning that struck fiercely.

"Order then organized the Earth; Order created Earth with gravity, but that power and those of the Sky wrought Chaos upon the world. Together they shaped the world. Molded were the Mountains, Frozen were the Glaciers, Deceitful were the Deserts. An accident formed Metal from the Earth, and it remains Polarized between Order and Chaos.

"It was from Chaos that Life was born. To nurture that Life, Growths of lush Forests were created by Order who had fallen in love with Life. Chaos, angered at Order's infatuation, introduced Decay and Death. This turned some Forests into Swamps where both the living and unliving rot.

"Order saw that Chaos had altered the World and incorporated what Chaos had created into the World. During the time since Order had fallen in love with Life, Order had brought about many beings from the plants, to the fish, to the birds, to animals and so many more than can ever be named or seen.

"Order then started upon the most ambitious project with Life to create beings that could use the Powers of the Sky. Order succeeded despite Chaos' meddling who introduced the concept of Freedom. The Powers of the Sky matched that which filled the sky and burned as if they were flames.

"Order then started another project with Life to create beings that could use the Powers of the Earth. Order succeeded, but even as Order did, Chaos introduced those with the Powers of the Earth to the concept of Inequality. Slowly, those with the Powers of the Earth were driven to madness by greed for and envy of those of the Sky.

"A great war erupted in time, engulfing the World and Order and Life could only cry at what their creations wrought in their destruction. Order created Peace and the war ended. Order created Wisdom and understanding was reached. Order created Justice and wrongs were righted.

"Chaos during this time had not been idle either; Chaos created War, Madness, Resentment and Vengeance. Chaos also created another being, stolen from Life but lacking the capability of using Powers of the Earth or using Powers of the Sky.

"Chaos first copied this being and changed it as it suited Chaos. Giants, Fishmen and other human-like beings were created from this meddling. This resulted in Humans and those similar to them having the Power of Choice.

"Humans were born of Chaos and so have the ability to Choose between Chaos and Order. Humans create Order from Chaos and introduce Chaos to Order. Our human ancestors were peculiar in that they bred with those that could use the Powers of the Earth and the Powers of the Sky.

"These half-breeds, Chaos encouraged to run wild and do as they liked and so they did. Some created Kingdoms, others destroyed them. Some explored the world and others ventured deep into its depths to learn its secrets. Eventually, as difference in opinion must, these resulted in a new war.

"At the end of this war, the World was different. The land had been shaped into a ring, different islands had different seasons on the same day and large stretches of ocean were utterly serene. Most curious perhaps were the strange fruits that appeared afterwards.

"Rumor had it that they came from a tree of illusion, granting the ability of the concept trapped within it for the cost of never being able to swim again. Rumor said that the Fruits of this imaginary tree held Devils, which has never been proven true or false; what is known is that each has its own overriding Will.

"Much later, after the original beings that could use the Powers of the Earth and Powers of the Sky had disappeared from the world, a group of our ancestors rose to poert. Using the combination of inherited powers and those granted by what had become known as Devil Fruits, a Kingdom was forged as a mystical superpower capable of terribly great things.

"It is suspected that due to this, an alliance was formed of the Kingdom's enemies but the exact history of that conflict is lost to the Void."

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><p>While the myth is nice, should the rating for the story over all be changed? It has not explicit but still disturbing adult theme(s)... It's technically an M chapter...<p>

On another note, I've written a kind of crack-story where Xanxus is taken in by Ottava instead of Nono...


	28. Chapter 28

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the memorable Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Cooldown<strong>

Xanxus held onto that dangerous unhealthy calm throughout the informative but lacking in detail legend, through leaving Rosso's shop and back across town until he entered Barret's workshop.

It was a state of mind that only assassins truly ever mastered, and very few of them at that. A precise calm where everything was noted, cataloged, dismissed if necessary and allowed an assassin to do anything, absolutely anything that needed to be done. From killing friends, to torturing family, murdering mentors, dismembering students, slaughtering Kings and peasants and everyone in between no matter the mountains of casualties that piled up.

It was a calm capable of ending nations, and Xanxus needed every bit of it.

This state of mind was similar to an auto-pilot, where the assassin was nothing but a living, breathing machine. This was beyond a killer's nirvana, or a murderer's enlightenment. It was to truly be an assassin, the truth of it rarely touched and for good reason. The state of mind was addictive in its objectivity. It was a false power, but addicting all the same as it rid the mind of all distractions but the goal.

Xanxus knew precisely how many people saw him exit Rosso's shop and cross town to Barret's workshop and that number was precisely one. One of Barret's daughters, who squeaked as he glanced her way.

The number of people who felt a predator, and death, pass them by was far, far higher.

**Frosty**

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Xanxus had mastered his wrath, his anger, his fury and his hate. They were all old friends and well-acquainted with each other. He could call upon each with ease and use them with the same amount of dexterity as he could his hands, his will and his flames.

This meant that in addition to only getting mad when it suited his purposes, barring one of his temper triggers, he could also channel his anger into something productive when it was too great to simply be suppressed.

So he was going to do that.

**Embroiled**

Loosing himself in his hobby work was one way Xanxus could work off his anger. Generally his way of working off stress and temper was by violence; blood and a cooling body of ash drifting away were just the things to make the assassin return to a reasoning state of mind, as killing was why that state of mind existed in the first place. Alcohol was a second but dealing with other people in this state would result in a lot of dead bodies, not to mention a mess he had no interest in being caught in.

Working it off while crafting guns worked but compared to a few dead bodies, it was slow going. That was fine; Xanxus wanted to keep his anger, his madness and let it war with cold logic and even more frigid objectives. He came up with the best ideas and plots when coldly furious like this.

During the days he was young enough to require tutors, his favorite tutor had told him that as a Boss, his anger had to be cold, it had to be well-reasoned and it had to be legendary. That was back when he was still learning about the Vongola's former Bosses and it was those words that caused him to latch onto Secondo as his personal role model. He remembered those words and used them to this day. It made his plots ingenious and original should a stock answer -generally kill or cripple- not fit requirements like the Ring Battles.

The whole Ring Battle mess was really just a contrived test. Xanxus really wanted the Vongola Sky Ring and all it represented, but knew he lacked the blood requirement. That pissed him off because the Ninth had lied to him for years, letting him believe and work for a title that would always be out just of his reach. The Cradle Affair was more of Xanxus showing that the Ninth was too damn old for his position since he couldn't even predict what his adopted son could do when angered, so how was he going to deal with the other bosses and players in the Mafia? It had been a bloody affair since he hadn't reined in his men and it ended with him frozen for years on end.

Still, the wimp they wanted as Decimo needed toughening up faster than Reborn was going to be able to do it, which was a conclusion Xanxus reached while high on pain medications after being defrosted. Being injured and treated for his freezer burn, allowed him to catch up on the paperwork, research and deal with everything he had missed while spending eight years on ice. He didn't know what sort of voodoo Lussuria had created to hide most of his scars -he had his suspicions that it was actually Mammon's work using an illusion that fed off of his own energy- but it worked to hide the worst of the burns so long as he watched his temper. The scars also didn't hamper his flexibility or physical capabilities in the least either, which was more Lussuria's work than anything else. The fact that he could blink was proof that Lussuria was a much better healer than fighter.

Thus the plan Xanxus proposed to the Ninth that involved a lot of intricate timing that wouldn't be possible if Xanxus didn't take the whole 'loser serves the winner' seriously in addition to being Varia Quality. The Ninth might have been losing his mental edge but he was still powerful enough to shut him down in a rage which mollified his adopted son. It also wouldn't have worked if the Ninth hadn't trusted Xanxus completely and vice versa, so it was a test for his old man and his adopted son as much as it was for the Sawada brat. It worked to mostly nullify his adopted son's anger at him too, which needed to happen because he was nearly crazy from it.

The Ninth might have protested, as did the Ninth's Guardians, but the old man was up for playing hard ball with his heir, because that sniveling little shit had Reborn backing him and if the Ninth trusted anyone who wasn't Family he trusted Reborn.

As far as Xanxus knew, no one had figured out that he and the Ninth orchestrated the entire Ring Battle. Reborn and Colonello might have suspected -especially when Squalo retreated from the battle field by faking his death and Mammon actually _lost_- but the fact that the whole intricate plan fooled the CEDEF and even Reborn for a time spoke to Xanxus' ability to plot and plan. Not using Flames either despite that being a Varia requirement was also a clue but that could be brushed off as Varia arrogance.

This time he wasn't under any orders but his own, but he was getting a grip on this new dimension. He didn't know how long he'd be here, but that was no reason to not plan for the future was there?

**Emerge**

Xanxus didn't leave the workshop as he worked with his third weapon. At the moment all the metal work was finished leaving the finishing touches on the wood to be completed.

He was still angry but now it was controllable, so long as no one triggered it; that's when dead bodies would happen. He wouldn't even be capable of approaching civil for a few more days but he didn't exactly have the time or inclination to be civil within the week. Not unless he wanted to ruin opportunities that would be priceless.

He had two more shooting competitions that he was going for -for the prize money, even if he'd have to get his marine identity out again for one of them- and then there was the auction. Unlike his home dimension, public order wasn't very orderly so having weapons was sensible and there would be lots of bidders that wouldn't just be fanatics or collectors. His creations would be used, and used well. This would translate into being popular, even among the higher-classes, nobility and the like. That's why he was actually going all out for some of the designs on some of his creations, as they'd appeal to the aesthetics.

He knew from experience that any high class auction was going to have an after party where people would mingle, make deals, enemies, economic allies and gossip. Depending on how the auction was organized it could even have a more dubious section with only god knew what on sell. He would also have to be civil unless he had someone to do it for him.

Wasn't it wonderful that there was a young woman with decent business sense right next door? He'd have to convince her tomorrow before he had to be a marine recruit for a while. Then he'd have to give her a crash-course on being Squalo; shouldn't be that hard since she was motivated.

He then finished his third creation of the day, noticed that someone had brought him in dinner -probably Cordelia since she was the least intrusive of the lot- and realized that cultivating the Clydes was a damn good idea. Now he just had to sell the idea the right way, because while their father was 'mostly worthless' by Squaletta's estimate, the older gunsmith was still smarter than Iemitsu whose only redeeming features were his strength and blind loyalty. If the former head of CEDEF wasn't stupidly easy to manipulate or predict, the Ring Battles would never have happened.

**Products**

The three weapons he had made were Belladonna, Lavender and Yew. This time he really did mean their names in the language of flowers.

Belladonna was a lovely rifle, made to be more accurate than Elianto at longer ranges. She was also very quiet as testing that morning proved. Unlike Elianto's tribal designs or Iride's flourishes, Belladonna was an understated beauty, with delicate and subtle etchings.

Lavender was meant for a lady to arm herself with. After his initial tests, he had Cordelia shoot it, as it was tiny but powerful. Cordelia proved competent, but eyed Belladonna with interest. Melrose really took to Lavender, but that didn't surprise Xanxus; despite the boy's unfortunate name, he really exemplified what Lavender meant. If the boy wasn't a Mist or a Rain, Xanxus would be honestly surprised. He could even have both Rain and Mist Flames like Squalo did; as far as Xanxus knew, no one but Mammon knew that Squalo had Mist Flames or suspected he could use them well either.

Yew was much like Iride, but instead of having a fluer-de-lis pattern, the pistol was decorated in a way that showed why it was named such. The metal of it was lightly etched showing branches and the Yew's characteristic branches and leaves. The wood was much darker than Iride's but that was a product of a stain on the wood. He had then delicately carved more branches and leaves into it, poured a lighter solution into the carvings and the result had the amount of detail on the woodwork highlighted.

Upon testing Belladonna, Xanxus realized none of the higher classed morons would appreciate her, so Elianto would be up for auction instead.

That reminded him: that he needed to shanghai the Squalette into becoming his assistant for the auction's after-party. Shouldn't be too hard if he promised her a commission; Mammon was easily manipulated like that too.

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><p>That comment about anger that inspired Xanxus to master his? It's from a Naruto fic. I forget which, but it sticks with you.<p> 


	29. Chapter 29

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the daring Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Broach<strong>

After finishing his plate of food he initiated his plan to convince the Squalette into speaking for him at the after auction party. If he had to do_ all_ the small talk and polite chatting, Xanxus would kill someone.

"Sam, how would you like to do me a favor." Xanxus drawled. He was rewarded with a raised eyebrow and suspicious looks from all three siblings. Their father was keeping a neutral face. "It'll be profitable for you too."

Like almost magic, the Squalette was willing to hear him out. Really far too much like Mammon in all the most annoying ways, and easily manipulated as a result. Thankfully she wasn't as bad as Mammon as she hadn't started charging people for everything but that could change over time. He was not going to give her such an idea either.

"How so?"

"Do you know how auctions work?"

**Secretary**

Xanxus knew there were differences between Squalo and the Squalette, beyond the obvious superficial ones of gender and age. If Squalette was nearly as good at cons and able to keep up on the market news as she appeared to be, then she had to know how to haggle, flatter, wheel and deal. In short, how to be diplomatic enough to politely part people from their money. This was not and had never been Squalo's strong point. Squalo's best points had always been his assassination talents, his sword-skills and resourcefulness. The resourcefulness was helpful in Varia-style diplomacy and in other areas; the damn shark was almost cockroach-like in his ability to not die from nearly anything.

This however did not mean that she knew how to act in the situation he was going to put her in. Some things did cross dimensions; he had not spent his entire time in Loguetown building guns, doing laundry, infiltrating the Marines and such. He had learned how to blend in the upper crust here, not that it was particularly hard after all the time the Vongola tutors had spent teaching him manners for all that he usually avoided using them. Xanxus found dealing with people and later assassins bluntly gave him an edge since there was no pussy-footing around and no room for misinterpretation. Creative misinterpretation of orders from assassins was pure idiocy.

So since he was going to have Squalette -yes, that was the name she was going by as it amused him- be effectively his secretary, CEO and right-hand. Squalette's story was that she was an undersecretary for another, older, secretary who took ill at the last moment. Squalette was also working for a small but old company -it took very little work to buy a small little company in South Blue, rename it and claim it as an older family business. Distant relation that bought it out and all that, which happened often enough to be plausible.

The world here was more than a little slow about white-collar crime and scamming. It was one of the Mafia's favored bread-and-butter businesses which distinguished higher-class families from the low-class trash that had to peddle weapons or worse. Dino was an absolute genius in that he turned the heavily embezzled Cavallone into the power-house it was today and that his Family was not made up only of not only swindlers; some of them were more than half-decent elsewhere outside of the office. Dino then slowly built it into a huge, efficient powerhouse made of mostly legal businesses. If Bucking Horse kept it up, he'd soon own more land and businesses than some, larger countries had. Xanxus didn't know details but Dino's net income was larger than some country's national budget and it wasn't one of those non-industrialized countries either.

Squalo had informed him that Reborn had taught Dino not only how to fight and lead but how to swindle swindlers. Xanxus didn't understand Dino and Squalo's friendship, but it did mean that Xanxus had learned about a number of scams and how to scam swindlers since he let Squalo explain it all; being business savvy was an unsaid requirement for being Decimo so Xanxus was, but that didn't mean you couldn't always learn more about business.

So, Xanxus planned to take advantage of this world.

**Acting**

Teaching Squalette how to act in such situations was both easy and difficult; some things Squalette already knew how to do, use and incorporate. Others required explanations, some of which were not native customs that Xanxus was personally familiar with in any sort of business culture. Those were some of this dimension's business cultures and while he had learned about them that didn't mean they made sense to him. Most of them he chalked up to a divergence of cultures despite these aliens sharing all the elements of a human condition or something like that.

Still he had to teach her, which was frustrating for all that she was an ideal student and only needed to be told once. Teaching involved talking and Xanxus never particularly enjoyed conversing; teaching was something Xanxus loathed having to do even on a good day, for all that if he toned it down -like he was doing- he was very good at it. The Mafia had some of the best teachers around because the faster you learn the later you die.

If he wasn't being restrained it could still be teaching in a broadly Mafia sense so long as teaching could be redefined as torture-based incentive learning. It obviously could be, as that was how Reborn taught, even if Reborn enjoyed cooking up crazy schemes and wearing strange costumes. Reborn just had to turn wimps into good bosses so he could do all that. Most of those that Xanxus ever had the misfortune to teach were already on the way to being of Varia Quality who had the price of death and disgrace for failure; Varia Quality missions were often lethal for the smallest of failures. So allowing the slightest bit of failure meant Xanxus didn't have to be too restrained while 'teaching.' They just had to survive and learn.

He had cracks in her mask to smooth, tells to remove or redirect and other issues to sort out. Correct cutlery to use, how to use it, correcting phrasing of words, how not just to act as but to be a different person. Both Melrose and Cordelia stayed to watch the intense tutoring session in action; clearly Squalette had her siblings well trained when it came to opportunities. The knowledge could always do them good.

Barret however had only chuckled and looked smug; he was clearly amused at Xanxus' plot. That Barret could put the clues together said he was smarter than Iemitsu after all; Iemitsu didn't catch on to several moles and plots during his time as the leader of the CEDEF. Basil on the other hand did notice something suspicious, investigated and then hired the Varia to eliminate the traitors. Basil might be an unassuming pretty-boy but fucking-Iemitsu had managed to find an understudy that had a brain and sense. Xanxus considered that to be Lal's influence; the lady had a brain and sense but patience and tact she did not, which was why she wasn't the boss of CEDEF; a less diplomatic Rain, Xanxus had never seen.

Still, acting was only part of the issue. Tomorrow was when Xanxus would take care of a few props.

**Props**

The highlight of Xanxus' morning was tossing Squalette to the okama tailor. The orders to make her look respectable and older was something that were easily done, especially with the right haircut. Long hair however could be useful, very useful.

"Oh, and don't cut the hair." It was his only condition, which made the tailor's eyes light up in a disturbingly Lussuria-like manner. Squalette looked murderous at him; he couldn't torture the Squalette like he could Squalo but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. Different 'tortures' for different sharks.

**Sharp**

He broke into his hotel room, drained the aura signature from the feather with another quick flash of Sky Flames and configured his own into his Warrant Officer persona. Xanxus was growing fond of the persona because it was useful and earning him money.

Wearing his faux-glasses and a smirk of superiority did wonders for his mood too as when done just right it could drive people to violence; Sanshou was a perfectionist and an arrogant hard-ass but that didn't mean it wasn't a well-earned arrogance either. His mood still hadn't recovered from his last chat with Rosso, but it was gradually improving.

Simple shooting and winning prize money at the same time also helped. There was nothing in the regulations about not having your own personal weapon, so his Belladonna was clearly superior to the mass produced Marine rifles, so Belladonna was allowed, much to their annoyance.

That people hadn't connected Sanshou the Marine and Sansei the Gunsmith was mostly due the fact that they appeared to be completely different people with only little tweaks. Glasses, a hidden burn scar, fiddling with his hair and a uniform was enough to fool casual observers. People noticed more than they thought they did when looking at people; body language was the most important but other more _sensitive_ people could pick up on the aura, intentions of a person and the like. Simple acting in the Mafia didn't work; you had to be that person or be dead. This worked to fool the more observant and suspicious people despite how hard it could be. Xanxus was used to acting out various roles for his subordinates, so this was actually easy.

Meeting Garp, after winning the sharp shooting contest with Belladonna was not what he wanted to do.


	30. Chapter 30

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the darling Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Philosophy<strong>

Garp, Xanxus decided, was an overly cheerful bulldozer in human form. He was loud, cheerful and took a childish glee in being himself. However he could also be serious and sneaky; the Vice-Admiral and Hero of the Marines was not as one-dimensional as he portrayed himself as. He had more depth than that.

This didn't mean that the Vice-Admiral had painstakingly put up a mask and front to fool others with; it just meant that he knew there was a time and place for things and how to do them at the appropriate moment. He also knew on some level exactly how much he could get away with and waltzed right along that line with cheerful flare and great brio. Garp might be the 'Hero of the Marines' but being such an eccentric meant he wasn't completely following the party line of 'Absolute Justice.'

Xanxus found the concept of 'Absolute Justice' to be absurd, no more than an excuse for tyranny and genocide for the slightest of infractions. It was not a philosophy to follow for long-term stability for any regime. The fact that the World Government was still standing was a testament to its sheer might. People might protest 'Might is Right' all they want, but it was true.

'Justice without Mercy is Tyranny' was something he learned when he was trying to become Decimo; in short, it was making sure you were seen performing the right actions, since things can be misconstrued and used against you. Executing a traitor without proof of misdeeds could easily backfire on the person who ordered or carried out the execution. He had trouble moderating himself for that one as a kid and teen; at least in the Varia not meeting his high standards had people fully supporting shooting the trash. The Varia worked in squads so someone not pulling their weight and assassin's pragmatism had no trouble killing lazy or stupid assassins that shouldn't be such if they were Varia in the first damn place.

Similar sayings he learned back then were 'Power is but an illusion,' and 'The price of wisdom is pain.'

The first meant to spend your resources wisely since a tired, war-weary family is a vulnerable one; looking powerful meant preventing a fight ever breaking out, thereby preventing the Family from expending extra resources and saving lives. Power was an illusion but man-strength and supplies were not. Enough strength made power seem real and tangible but there was a difference between the two. Power was also hellishly tempting but strength took hard work, knowledge and experience to build.

The last particular phrase was annoying; on both the learning and teaching side, especially when there was a lot of wisdom to shove down someone's throat that was hard to get to. Xanxus hated complacency and people not staying firm to what they believed and supposedly lived by. Hypocrites he'd roast in a sea of Wrath Flames until the heat carried the ashes away. If there were any ashes.

When the Ninth chose to do the easy thing instead of the right thing by never mentioning things -like their actual lack of bloodties in the beginning- and making dubious choices for the Vongola, Xanxus planned his 'coup.' It cost the Ninth his Sun Guardian and his second Lightning Guardian, but looking over the Ninth's decisions after that proved that the old fart had become more vigilant in matters to the Famiglia. It was only firmed up further with the deaths of his sons. His harder stance was only further firmed up by setting up the Sawada-brat up with Reborn for a tutor.

Being stuck in ice for eight years was a pain, having to fool his subordinates again was a pain, losing the Ring Battles was a pain, knowing he'd never become Decimo was a pain, having to deal with the damned Neo-Primo was a pain because his mere existence twisted the knife in his dead dream a little bit deeper. The price of wisdom might be pain, but he'd be damned if he allowed the Famiglia he loved to fall into ruin when he knew when and how to prevent it. If that meant he'd have to pay the price of pain for the wisdom the others gained, then so be it.

Experience was the bitterest way to gain wisdom but it was remembered all the more for it.

**Distract**

Xanxus was glad to ditch Garp as soon as possible; it wasn't that hard to do even. It just took longer than Xanxus or 'Sanshou' would have liked.

During that time, Sanshou had set up that he did have friends in a number of places and that he was leaving later today; shame as Xanxus was fond of the persona but keeping the illusion of multiple people running around by himself was too much work since he was going to be pinned to the auction for a while. Sanshou needed to move and betting on objects or having the Squalette make small-talk for him while he moved 'Sanshou' around took more time and effort than he wanted to deal with.

He could, in theory, have an illusion of himself attend the auction but that was overly complicated, overly tiring and just plain stupid in terms of energy resources. Keeping it simple and having Sanshou leave would remove the potential for Garp crashing the auction to find Sanshou. Garp had decided that he liked Sanshou which was more than a little odd; Sanshou wasn't exactly likable.

After breaking into his hotel room -aided by Mist Flames for concealment since he didn't have the cover of nightfall- he changed out of his uniform and returned to his normal clothing.

Taking the scraggly feather ornament and charging it with Sanshou's aura, Xanxus broke out of his hotel room and wandered down to the docks. Finding a passenger ship leaving towards South Blue, Xanxus deposited the feather ornament.

Now he had to pick up Squalette from the okama tailor at whose mercy he had left her.

**Make-over**

Xanxus had to give the okama tailor credit; Squalette didn't look like she was in her teens anymore. The tailor had also managed to created an understated sexy secretary look that was classy enough to avoid the realms of bad taste. It was demure enough for an under-secretary but still flattering enough to suggest that she was paid well enough and had enough self-respect and security in her position to dress herself up a bit more than was strictly required. Pulling that off without making her look like she want to boink her boss was something that was beyond difficult; the tailor and friends had pulled off a bloodless miracle.

That was actually a job that was much harder than it seemed to be; the line between office slut status and proud working professional was very subjective to lots of little criteria that only women and okama knew and escaped other men's conscious minds entirely. Best to let those that knew these things deal with them.

"You utter bastard." Squalette growled out, to the fussing of the tailor.

"Looks like you can play the part." Xanxus informed her. "Can you make duplicates, different colors, shades and whatever?" He asked the okama.

"They'll be ready by tomorrow, Sir."

"Good. Four sets in total, demure but flattering colors and cuts."

"Thank you for your patronage, Sir."

**Fuss**

Squalette did have something of a bitch-fit at her house, which mainly had to do with the fact that Xanxus had left her to deal with the okama tailor and his okama friends all by herself.

Xanxus let the teenager list the affronts to her dignity, sensibilities and person; mostly so he'd know which would garner the most reaction in future and to learn a bit more about his quasi-student and partner. She apparently didn't enjoy all the fussing, the man-handling and the coos and suggestions about things. Xanxus didn't blame her but he did note that she did wait to complain -_loudly_- until they were back at her home. Impressive professionalism for a civvie teen.

It took a while for the Squalette to stop because once she noticed he wasn't paying that much attention, she had to rant about _that_. That was annoying, so Xanxus cut her off with ease.

"Tossing you to the okama was a test; to see how you'd deal, react and it was cheap. I'm not going to spend more money than I have to for this. Off the rack suits wouldn't work, nor would a home hair-cut and style. Not for a sophisticated auction like this.

"The okama might be a little or a lot strange, but they do know their stuff, know it well and enjoy it. However, since most people are stupid they don't take advantage of the knowledge or any businesses owned by them. Even with help, tailoring four skirts, shirts and jackets would take longer than a single tailor could do in one day, especially if they have other orders.

"What does the fact that the tailor can have them prepared by tomorrow tell you?"

Squalette being no fool understood. Xanxus was paying for the tailor's livelihood at the moment and quite possibly the livelihoods of several friends. Okama were not the most tolerated of people, and Xanxus didn't bat an eyelash at the tailor. He had even paid extra. Sheer gratitude would keep the work quality high and the orders silent. She found herself respecting the man more for all that wouldn't say it. That Cordelia and even Melrose liked Xanxus was proof enough for the nearly fifteen year old.

**Drop-off**

Auctions worked in lots; it was a matter of fact and it crossed dimensions. Just about every creation of Xanxus' past few weeks in Lougetown was up for sale; Iride, Belladonna and Lavender were not. Neither was Zafferano.

Zafferano was made to equal Iride in capabilities but the amount of decoration on Zafferano was nearly minimalist; that was the point as in the language of flowers Saffron was 'beware of excess.' Paired together with Iride meaning 'news or message,' was odd unless you took the fact that as paired weapons they might say 'message: beware of excessive amounts of bullets fired at you.'

If you added in Belladonna meaning 'silence' and Lavender meaning 'deceit' made it was possibly one of the oddest phrases drawn from the meanings of flowers. As they were weapons, you couldn't exactly arrange them in a bouquet to be read properly.

Still, after getting Squalette to see some sense and stop simmering in a stew of pointless resentment he had to drop them off. It was the last day to do so, but it gave the organizers enough time to catalog each item, number it and put them all in lots.

There were methods to the madness that an auction was, but everything was exactly as he expected it was. This included tighter security than the Marine Base, which was just depressing for the Marines. To be honest, only crazy or highly skilled people would break into a Marine Base, but an Auction House like this was a tempting target if anyone desperate and crazy enough knew about it. To prevent enterprising individuals from doing so, everything was carefully watched and protected at all times.

Tomorrow the auction would start, as would the invites, parties and business deals. Tomorrow was important, especially for testing the Squalette in ways she wouldn't expect. It would also test the fiction of the company he had bought, which wasn't as fictional as it could be. Buying the company was done through the bank, as the World Government had set up a system for such things.

He needed sleep soon; he wasn't sure why but he had a headache. It wasn't Squalette; loudness did not cause him headaches after years of dealing with Squalo. It had just been building for a while but wasn't at the headache stage yet. Food, a hot shower and sleep should remedy him of his headache entirely.

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><p>Yeah, it seems like filler, but there is a point to this. Also the three phrases mentioned are from a Naruto and Harry Potter crossover, where Harry is reborn as 'Uchiha Fukurou' which is the title of the story.<p> 


	31. Chapter 31

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the daring Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Relaxation<strong>

It was rare but there were times that an assassin could relax while on a mission. This had turned into one of those times since the only obligations he had left were social, so he treated himself to a wonderful meal, robbed some unfortunate fools -money was always handy even if he had no idea what he was going to do with some of the jewelry- and took a long hot shower.

Taking his time drying off and tending to other needs, Xanxus brushed out his hair; it was getting rather long. While he doubted that he'd ever grow his hair out to Squalo-lengths didn't mean that he wasn't against growing it out period. The right suit and having it simply tied back unadorned made his resemblance to Secondo uncanny or would once it grew out that far, which would take time for all that it was more affirmation of the lies that said he was Timoteo's only surviving son. Long hair would also be a distinguishing feature, leading people to pay less attention to other features like his scars.

The headache still sat right at the edge of existence, threatening to break into reality like some demented Mist-creation from the Mist Squad Leader; the Mist Squad Leader -not Mammon who was the Mist _Officer_- was a horror fanatic. She collected horror films from the classics to the contemporaries, murder mystery novels, books on horror and legends of it from around the world. She just had to smile to get the Mist Squad to behave; the fact that her wiry dark hair that would not be tamed, combined with her paleness and fondness for knives made her look like a serial killer ghost come to life was beside the point.

The point was the fact that he was uncomfortably aware that a headache could attack him at any time and cripple him when he really needed to keep his wits about him. Laying on the bed, he breathed deeply as he intentionally tensed and relaxed muscle groups leaving him as limp a cooked noodle. The relaxation helped some, but there really was no reason for him to have a headache at this time.

He had eaten and was eating healthily and regularly, was relaxed and wasn't allergic to anything he had been around. His head hadn't taken any knocks and he had been getting enough sleep. This left the possibility of it being something Flame-related and it wasn't due to Rosso because he knew her feel and would have noticed her Flames grasp on him.

**Puzzle**

Xanxus cleaned Belladonna as he tried to figure the headache out. If the headache wasn't Mist-related, then it had to be due to a Sky; a powerful one.

Skies tended to have a few spectrums of their own. In terms of 'leadership' they ranged from manipulative little shits to tyrannic generals with a smattering of eccentrics like Dino and a rare few who were completely ineffective and hopelessly humble doormat-types. There was also the issue of 'power' to consider; a general way to judge it was by the number of Guardians they had. If they had a full set, then they were pretty powerful. If they didn't, they were rather weak. It was a general rule, not a law however as Guardians died or were retired should they be injured enough they couldn't carry on their duties.

A Sky and their Guardians harmonized, but how it happened and the rate it happened at varied. Sometimes it was an exceptional quick match where the Sky and Guardian slid together like puzzle pieces and 'clicked.' Other times required either an exceptional amount of time or an exceptional situation to properly harmonized. Sometimes it never happened despite both parties wanting it for one reason or another; they were just incompatible on a subconscious level.

Squalo had clicked with Xanxus after just setting eyes on his future Boss at the age of fourteen and had been following him around as a loyal sword-waving assassin ever since. Bel was also someone who clicked; the kid's mental state was rather disturbing but having his Boss around did wonders to keep Bel's murder rate down and rampages rare. It had filled him with cruel amusement to read the reports submitted by the various unfortunates Ottabio had charged with keeping Bel in line when Bel first joined; Bel had very clearly been acting up for the hell of it and had terrorized his babysitters and Tyr's second-in-command indiscriminately, culminating in his rise to Storm Officer after he offed Tyr's Storm Officer.

That Squalo had allowed Bel's rampages to go on up to a point after Xanxus was frozen had told its own story, as Squalo and Bel both had excellent killer and hunting instincts that they could control. Bel might be an unrepentant killer but his genius didn't just lie in academics; Bel was very good at hunting rats like Ottabio, and torturing them. A lot of Bel's 'Prince the Ripper' reputation came from torturing rats and similar ilk, which he was often hired to do. Even Bel's 'pro bono' work had a reason that investigation later turned up either prior or after the death. Occasionally, Xanxus would get a set of files full of traitors and proof of such actions before Bel went on a spree; Bel still had to do a proper report but at least Squalo could put Nono or that damned Neo-Primo at ease with the fact that Bel was only killing traitors... mostly. Individuals who objected did so at their own risk.

Ottabio, had been the Cloud Officer under Tyr, that Xanxus had inherited and later killed during the attempted coup because the man was not only a traitor to the Varia but to the Vongola; he was useful to leak information to Nono about the coup -he really hadn't decided then if he had wanted to kill Nono back then for all the man and his lies deserved it so he left it up to fate to decide who would die- but Ottabio was a rat to more than Nono. Rats were to be hunted; their sticky little paws spread disease and destruction.

The rest of the Varia Officers however were all deadly loyal to their Boss for one reason or another. They might not have clicked, but he considered them his Guardians nonetheless and they considered him their Sky.

The only Skies Xanxus had been around here were Roger and Garp. From what Xanxus could tell from Roger's stories, the man had a full assortment of Guardians. Possibly even several sets depending on if they died or retired from piracy. In effect, the dead Pirate King couldn't be effecting him currently due to lacking life and having had a full harmony.

This left Garp. In theory, Garp was either like Dino or had his Guardians deployed elsewhere due to how the Marines assigned people. Bogart was an exception; a Rain would be needed to mediate conflict and balance Garp's more extreme impulses out.

So, why was Garp's mere presence giving him a headache and why was Garp obviously feeling compelled to search out Sanshou in the first place? His alter ego was more 'Storm' than 'Sky,' but even if Sanshou was almost certainly the strongest or purest Storm Garp had ever met, he certainly wasn't remotely close to Harmonizing.

**Distortion**

Despite the Vongola having the longest known history of using and studying Dying Will Flames, it didn't mean they knew everything about them or used them properly all the time. Most famiglia's abuse of Lightnings showed this, and most other applications of Dying Will Flame was directed towards practical and destructive ends; fighting, defending and killing.

It didn't take a genius to realize that other cultures could actually occasionally use the Dying Will Flames if in different guises; a martial artist's chi, a shaman's healing powers, a medium speaking to the dead and more were all facets of Dying Will Flames. Like everything else these facets could also be twisted. Especially by humans.

Brainwashing a flame-user could be done; it was just stupid to do so for the most part. If people considered themselves as only tools they could never use their flame effectively. They just didn't have the will for it. Still, it happened and the World Government was an organization that periodically re-wrote history, allowed slavery to exist for those at the very top of the hierarchy and wasn't afraid to commit genocide again and again. Brainwashing in comparison was relatively mild, especially if it was subtle indoctrination.

It was also something that Xanxus knew happened to the 'gaki' that the World Government didn't kill, but Garp probably wasn't one of them, or even related to one since he lacked the mental edge that the 'gaki' he had met and even Roger had; it was possible it was conditioned out of him but it would have been hard since Garp was a Sky. Skies were very stubborn generally and Suns were generally even worse.

But to brainwash and break a Sky? Even a Sunny Sky like Garp? What sort of effects would that fucking have? Even the Mafia had limits to what it would descend to; make a Sky loyal to family and boss yes, that was done but to do what the Marine or the World Government had to do to twist a Sky in a direction she or he didn't want to go was something that filled him with utter revulsion.

Xanxus suspected that the World Government hadn't progressed past the crude techniques traditionally used to do so as brainwashing technology likely didn't exist here, nor did the World Government have access to a properly trained Mist; Rosso was classic Mist in that she didn't care about anyone unless they were her possessions so long as they were useful and her only goal was ephemeral or so her flamboyant nature suggested. If her goal was concrete, then it would have already occurred and _everyone_ would know it.

Twisting and breaking a Sky would cause more peripheral damage to the Family doing so than to their enemies, if the chaos surrounding those few historically documented damaged Skies was any indication. Better to kill a contrary Sky than try to bend them to your will; it would be less damaging in the long run.

Civil war in a Family was an utter mess and that was before the other Families jumped in to gain glory and territory.

If Garp was naturally more like Dino in he harmonized with everyone he considered his if likely to a lesser extent, as Garp didn't seem to have Dino's clumsiness. Instead Garp had narcolepsy, which was an odd effect. Garp clearly had an active system, so his flames weren't sealed but he had narcolepsy; medically it was short naps but mentally if the time was short enough the brain would reboot refreshed like from a cat nap.

Wait, a _reboot_? That was disturbing to consider the implications of.

**Reboot**

Xanxus was familiar with psychology in ways that a practicing psychologist would be hard to match, even if they were working within a prison system. It was fucking needed to keep the Varia in line.

He also was well aware of how flame types affected personality and the mind, active or unactive user; some mental issues were more likely to happen to certain groups. Especially if they were able to use Flames; being able to do so willingly required a 'dying will' so some mental distortion was inevitable, made worse depending on the background and nature of the individual. Then there was how the Flame Type and Flame Use effected the individual.

There were notable trends too: Addiction issues for Suns, Obsession of all stripes to gain recognition with the occasional unrepentant narcissist for Lightnings, Depression for Rains, Self-esteem issues and anger issues for Storms and Schizophrenia for Mists. Skies were a bit different. Skies were all about 'acceptance' which made masochistic behavior more likely, leading to self-harm or martyr behavior usually due to ingrained guilt-complexes. Occasionally this would lead to a whole host of potential issues but they tended to be self-inflicted such as anorexia or alcoholism if they weren't mentally flaying themselves with guilt over something else. Clouds however could either be practically harmless or extremely devastating.

As for Clouds, Hibari Kyouya was an excellent example of the trend in Clouds for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with his ritual catchphrase, and desire for order. That was actually a _good_ sign. Despite all the violent behavior, he was promoting order and not working against it. Clouds with the other _far worse_ mental disorder they more likely to have, were _horrible _as they tended to have Antisocial Personality Disorder. That was completely different than hating people, social interaction and the like as that was introverted, anxiety based behavior according to the civvie psych books.

Crazy Clouds with that particular personality defect were the utter _worst_ to ever have to deal with. The Varia had a policy about such Crazy Clouds and that was kill them instantly and thoroughly investigate afterwards, especially if they worked for the Vongola. Antisocial Personality Disorder was a kind of crazy that Xanxus did not let into the Varia.

Therefore he knew all the hundred and one ways the mind dealt with trauma and more. He also knew enough about the brain to know that it processed and dealt with information while asleep. Xanxus also knew about self-reinforcing mental loops; breaking free from those was not easy as he knew from personal experience.

In short, Xanxus could draw no other conclusion based on his headache from Garp; Garp was a mentally broken Sky who didn't even know that he was damaged. Triggering repressed memories or thoughts activated his narcolepsy; while he slept the brain would reboot and the repressed horrors would be forgotten about. It explained Garp's unnatural cheeriness and utter loyalty to the Marines despite the fact that as a Vice-Admiral he had probably been part of or had witnessed horrible things.

As a mentally broken Sky, Garp would have utter shit for harmonization; he might have attracted Bogart from before the time the mental loop and sleep trigger was set up. Another thing to consider was how the disharmonization would effect people who weren't used to it, especially people with the qualities and strength to become his Guardians; headaches for one, which since he didn't get one from helping Garp with the paperwork meant there were other factors at work. If it was constant exposure, like on a ship, insomnia and fatigue would be typical. That would explain his stupid when sneaking aboard the prison ship; he'd been worn down and hadn't realized it. That it could happen at such a distance and in so short a time period was damning; finding a way to prevent that was necessary as would testing it, which meant more Garp exposure.

Garp's statistics for officers and the like now made a disturbing amount of sense; if Garp was actually functioning properly they'd probably be even lower, though probably with more officers kicking up a fuss about being transferred away. Garp at least now had an excuse for his officers being stupid and dying; others probably didn't.

**Fiddle**

Xanxus turned the puzzle of how damaged Skies and the like worked together in a sensible fashion. Skies were generally too rare to risk major brainwashing and the like for the sake of science. Even a Sky wasn't guaranteed to have a child that was also a Sky and it didn't mean that an unexpected Sky wouldn't pop up from the mistress' sheets on occasion either. The Sawada-brat's Storm Guardian probably had a Sky mother with inactive flames; his father and half-sister were pure Storm.

Skies had to have all the flames and be able to draw them all out equally at once. Generally most managed a rather equal mix, but that didn't mean that they didn't have one flame stronger than the rest which is why you had Sunny Skies, Stormy Skies and more. The little bomber was so close to being a Sky it was hilarious, especially if he ever managed to train up the one Flame he couldn't materialize already. It could be done, but that didn't mean it would be easy.

Xanxus did know what a lack flames did; those who had their flames sealed generally suffered a bit of psychological trauma, withdrawal symptoms, general uncoordinated movements and fatigue. It also had the effect of making Skies or Suns stupid, slow to react and sleepy; sealing off the Sun Flame alone was a very bad idea as it important for physical and mental activity. Skies had it worse as all the other flames would be sealed too; Lightning was ambition, Rain for emotional equilibrium, Storm for desire, Cloud for independence and Mist for creativity.

Even if the Dying Will Flames weren't active, they were needed for life and growth or else people wouldn't have them. Sealing a grown man's flames was a punishment of unspeakable cruelty as it reduced them to ruins within hours; it was a very effective torture technique especially if they had active flames and weren't Suns as then they could understand what happened to them, for all the technique wasn't well known. Doing so to a child was even worse, as the Sawada-brat proved.

A lot of the Sawada-brat's issues could be laid at the fact that the Ninth sealed his flames so young and he had inadequate emotional and physical support afterwards, as Nono had then promoted Iemitsu as a 'reward' for providing the Famiglia with an additional heir. The blond idiot had then all but ceased to spend time with his wife and son, the results of which were horrendous and very obvious for everyone that cared to look.

Xanxus didn't care about the excuse sputtered out about children not being ready to use Dying Will Flames responsibly; all that told Xanxus was that Nono purposely sealed the Sawada-brat's flames instead of going through the effort of teaching him how to use them or assigning a tutor. At the time all of Nono's sons were alive so the whole responsibility bullshit was just a ruse to keep the Sawada-brat from taking over the Vongola due to sharing Primo's blood as unlike Iemitsu, the kid wasn't in CEDEF. The Sawada-brat actually had a better claim on the Vongola than Nono's sons as Ricardo was entrusted the Vongola, and while Ricardo might have been Secondo, he was technically the steward of the Vongola, as were all the Bosses after him. If Nono really believed that children weren't responsible enough for Dying Will Flames Nono would have protested about the Bovino-brat. _He did not_.

Sawada Nana might be an excellent cook and housekeeper but as a mother... Xanxus thought his mad mother might have been a better one in terms of emotional support and she had been out of her mind half the damn time. Nana's psych report was nightmare fuel even for the Varia and the cause of a lot of praying on Father Greg's part; the retired assassin was the one that had examined the housewife. For a retired Sun he was very good at getting people to talk to him and tell him _everything_. The long-retired assassin monopolized the Varia's Chapel for the next three days after getting back. Most of the Father's prayers were thanking God for Reborn's existence and excellence in assisting the Neo-Primo in recovering from his tortured civilian existence; that Father Greg phrased it that way by itself was telling and damning.

In short, the Ninth had probably done more damage directly and indirectly to the Sawada-brat's life than anyone else; seriously, it might have been kinder had the damn Neo-Primo-brat been physically raped repeatedly than had his flames sealed. The sealing of such flames was trauma enough to count as mental rape anyway. If it had been physical rape, evidence of that could have been gathered, Iemitsu's brat would have been removed from the home by any half-decent social worker and Tsuna would have had the support of a therapist and a foster family. Japan's foster system was much nicer than a lot of others out there due to the homogeneity and family-oriented nature of the culture.

He still would have had problems due to being sealed but at least they would have been addressed properly with support, encouragement and therapy instead of having his own mother confirming that he was fucking no-good to his face. Hell, she had never spoke with his school about possible tutoring for his grades or the bullying issues like any other semi-responsible parent would have, which meant that the bullies knew that they had a target that they could do practically _anything_ to without any consequences. The teachers even bullied the brat, which endorsed it. Physical, verbal and emotional bullying was enough but it could easily have escalated to sexual abuse once those middle school brats grew a set of balls. That was a recipe for disaster in the making that Reborn had thankfully headed off. Sexual abuse fucked people up for the rest of their lives; even watching it happen fucked people up as he knew personally.

Sawada Nana might have been a sweet, kind woman and trusting, loving wife but as a mother... Xanxus knew there were junkies that were better mothers. Abandoning the kid as a baby would have been a kindness. Unfortunately, the Sawada-brat wasn't and truly believed he was no-good, even after all of Reborn's subtle brainwashing to negate the worst of the damage. It was why the brat had such an ingrained martyr complex that Reborn had manipulated to make the shithead accept his birthright because this way he could make his life and death more than no-good. For twisting a Sky, you had to use what was already there.

For it to be self-directed and ingrained to such an extent on a Sky... Garp's strong Sun tendencies had to have worked against him for self-preservation of at least his working mind if not his sanity; to activate dreams as a way to mentally protect himself was clearly an insane thing to do... what the hell was Garp hiding from himself?

More importantly... how long had it been going on?

* * *

><p>I've used a lot of psychology terms this chapter, so any terms you don't understand you can google, especially about personality disorders as those are just <em>nasty<em>. To explain how I got the leanings for the various Flame elements, I looked for one characteristic *all* those with said flame type had and went from there.

Suns: Reborn is a caffeine addict, while Ryohei and Luss are addicted to the 'runner's high' that people get from exercise. Kyoko is addicted to helping people; yes, that can happen. Shoichi is addicted to inventing things.

Lightnings: Verde is research obsessed, Levi's obsessed with Xanxus while Lambo is obsessed with weaponry and the idea of being acknowledged as the best; all want recognition for what they've done and plan to do.

Rains: Colonello is sad because he can't marry Lal, Lal is sad because she's a failure as an Acrobaleno, Squalo's sad that his Boss was on ice for ages and Takeshi was so sad that he had failed at baseball that he tried to kill himself. What Rains really fear is failure, and they tend to fall and stay in a minor depression which leaves them functional but not happy. They're happy when the people around them are happy. What's different about the rest compared to Takeshi is that they pick themselves up and move on, often with a bit of anger for getting sad/depressed in the first damn place. Depression does not equal suicide and suicide does not equal depressed.

Storm: Fon is a grown-man and has grown past his issues to be his serene kung-fu self. Bel wouldn't remind everyone of his royal status if he wasn't also reminding himself of the fact that Princes behave certain ways and he has an image to keep which means he's conforming to a role and not being his own person because he doesn't have a sense of self outside of being a prince. Hayato is a mess of insecurities, as is his sister; Bianchi is a young woman, in a foreign country who is said to be Reborn's 4th lover. If you think Bianchi the romantic is not mentally comparing herself to Reborn's previous lovers, or wondering if she's 'good enough' for Reborn, you are out of your mind. The fact that they're insecure makes them lash out, hence the anger issues.

Mists: Mammon likes to collect money because 'a human repeats the same life eternally' while Mukuro's goal to 'destroy the mafia' and his actions 'join the Vongola' don't make sense since he doesn't try to destroy the Vongola either. Daemon Spade is even worse because 'he wants to make the Vongola the strongest' so he deceives the Shimon Famiglia and breaks Mukuro out of prison. Clearly logic is not on their side; Chrome's logic isn't logical either but at least her logic can be romanticized as childish beliefs. Listen to their 'logic' and compare it to someone who has schizophrenia and isn't on meds for it.

Skies: Luce, Aria and Yuni all were rather happy to die for the world and in Luce and Aria's cases, pass the curse on to their kid. Nono was an over-indulgent parent, which caused his real sons to be killed and then froze his adopted son and tormented himself over all of that. Iemitsu loves his wife and son but doesn't spend any time with them, which he regrets yet still does anyway. Tsuna has martyr syndrome on top of being a doormat. Byakuran took over the world and found crippling sadness in ruling it, which is also self-inflicted. That Xanxus is merely alcoholic and goes through other options first instead of 'self-sacrifice' whenever possible makes him a better adjusted Sky in this aspect than the rest of them. Dino actually wins 'most mentally sound Sky' though as Xanxus has other issues.

Clouds: Skull has a catchphrase. Hibari has a catchphrase. Kikyo has a catchphrase. Doing or saying something repeatedly can be seen as 'ritual' which is part of OCD-behavior. While no one with Antisocial Personality Disorder with a Cloud attribute was ever shown in KHR (well, beyond Iris who is a minor villain in the future Arc) doesn't mean that there aren't those in OP that show very Cloud-like behavior and signs of this personality disorder.

Gah, a lot was revealed in this chapter. Sorry for the info-dump but the realization about Garp needed to happen. Give me reviews about your opinions on this, even if it's about how Nono is the worst 'grandfather' ever for doing that to Tsuna.


	32. Chapter 32

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the wordy Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Incentive<strong>

Putting the Garp-issue as Xanxus dubbed it out of mind, Xanxus returned to the Clydes, mostly to mooch breakfast but mainly as a double-check on the Squalette and her outfit. If enough details were right, the vast majority of trash would overlook the little things that didn't quite fit.

Breakfast went as well as could be expected, as he had to explain things. At least it was sensible what and how questions. What do I do? How do I say 'go fuck yourself' while being tactful? What limits are there to the deals I'm allowed to make? How the fuck are you trusting me to make proper business decisions for a made-up company?

Explaining the various white-collar scams that could be done, provided you didn't get too greedy, to the Squalette obviously made her day. Xanxus couldn't really blame her; while they could easily ruin a business and lives, a modest skim to take extra money off their hands wasn't hard to do. Unfortunately, it required more money and connections than what either of them had. At least at the moment.

Thanks to the den-den mushi the banks were only at a checkbook level of technology more or less; which meant that account numbers and the like were checked by hand and not by computers so hacking was impossible and setting up false accounts was very tricky and time consuming due to having to fake all the records by hand. It meant some of the newer scams, with real accounts bought from the homeless for a fee weren't possible, but others? They weren't outdated yet. Those he knew. Those he could use, so he did.

It was how he acquired his company -it was on Machina after all- and while he was keeping some funds for renovation and expansion Squalette was a bit amazed at the amount of funds she could deal with; she just had to make the right deals. Honestly, some people had too much money on their hands and Xanxus was happy to take it from them to spend on more worthy causes.

Xanxus was taking a page out of Dino's book; skim enough off of mooks, invest it illegally and make enough profit to cover it, until you could make it look legal-ish, moving up a level or three of transparency every time until it was completely by the books. This world didn't have computers looking for suspicious transitions but the less books were cooked the easier it was to deal with them. Although this was less invest illegally to use on stock trading -stock trading didn't exist here yet, from what he could tell- and more of use the illicit wealth they had to make the scheme seem profitable until it actually was.

That, more than anything informed the Clydes that this wasn't just a short-term scam, but an actual full-time job with pay; provided Squalette made it through the interview and creation of the company beyond polite fiction process. Dumping all the work on the Squalette might be seen as cruel but Xanxus was using it as incentive; the young woman disliked being thought of as less than what she was.

In short, the carrot-and-stick approach was working marvelously on the Squalette.

**Touches**

While Squalette looked like a working business professional there were a few touches that had to be added. For himself as well.

The Okama had done some make-up tricks to make her look older; Cordelia did that for Squalette this time, along with her hair. Xanxus knew how to apply disguises, which did include make-up but that didn't mean he liked to advertise that he knew how. Her hands had been manicured yesterday, so they'd fit the image. The shoes however were sensible, but they weren't office wear or something for more formal events.

"We need to get better shoes, for you."

He ignored how much that was such a Lussuria comment to make. It still needed saying.

**Frequent**

This time, as he wasn't just leaving orders and running from the shop, he managed to learn the tailor's name, and those of his friends.

The tailor and business owner was one Marius Flint, who was nicknamed Mayfly. His two okama assistants were Cid O. Ein -he went by Cid, which was his last name and the naming conventions in this world just were not consistent at all- and one Stoner Magnus. He preferred Mavis Rock. Mavis even changed which which naming convention he used, to make things more perplexing. He had the feeling that which naming convention people used would always confuse him.

Shoes were easily sorted out, with a bit of talking. Getting the names of the shops required talking, which Xanxus avoided by borrowing the shop's bathroom to change his hair color. Well, that what they had to assume as his cave dark hair was now a decidedly dark green shade. Mist Flames were useful like that, especially when the change was minor enough to anchor without excessive concentration. Anchoring illusions was needed for keeping disguises up and they fed on the flames already present in a person, so all it took was getting his hair a little wet and finger combing the bangs tousled to cement the idea that he dyed it. It would tire him out a bit more to hold it, but it was worth it.

Hair color was one of the things that could change a lot about how a person was perceived, as was the fact that he had anchored another illusion on his face to hide the scar there and another to change the texture of his hands. The scars from where he was frozen for years could be felt on his skin and they were cooler to the touch than the rest of his hands, so completely hiding their presence was very important if he was going to pass as a pampered businessman's son. Well, not totally pampered, but they weren't exactly heavily calloused.

He pretended not to hear the giggling over his ass and fine muscles as he had Squalette speak with Mayfly for him. There were certain things Xanxus did not want to deal with when he didn't have to. Ignoring such comments was pretty easy; they were at least compliments.

**Mannerisms**

After getting shoes sorted out, Xanxus took Squalette to an early lunch. Not as a date but as a final test run before getting tossed into the deep end of the business world.

He was mildly surprised that she had managed to get all the manners down, and even the tone and accent of her voice just right. Yeah, he had struck gold here for an ideal infiltrator and business minion.

While Xanxus was all for make-it-or-break-it deals, he usually liked to have someone experienced and battle-tested. Still, experience did not make trash better than gold. Time tended to make trash smell worse and allow scum to get more slimy.

Next however was the pre-auction party, which would be more meet-and-greet and a strategy meet over what the various groups and power blocs were going to buy than a proper party with dancing, music and food. The meet-and-greet would help to organize people into groups with similar interests, so after an evening of bidding excessive amounts of money on whatever they could then meet up later at the late-night bash and hammer out business deals to put in writing in the morning.

Or they could do something different but similar to those lines such as breaking the auction into sections with party breaks in-between. Generally however, the later the auction ran the more illegal and stupidly rare things were being sold.

**Language**

Xanxus generally hated any infiltration missions he had to take part in; not only was he physically ill-suited to any number of peon positions which made infiltration easy, he also had to speak to people. He had to use words and words possessed a power that was both salvation and damnation.

Aside from insults, orders and formalities, Xanxus usually didn't speak. Not because he didn't have anything to say but because he didn't like speaking. He was not the only person in the Varia that didn't say a lot and preferred to speak through actions or body language. The Varia at least had enough people capable of communicating entire plans by body language alone, so not speaking was fine; preferred when on missions, actually.

The Head of the Varia knew well the power of words, the subtleties of them and the beauty and limits of them. While the group of expert assassins required a minimum of being fluent in seven language did not mean that all of the Varia spoke the same seven languages. While there were enough in common and people did learn more than the minimum seven, that didn't mean that they couldn't write in a different language while pissy. Language dictionaries were wonderful, when they existed for the language.

If they didn't, then he'd either make them rewrite the report and then have them make a language dictionary as punishment. He could speak thirteen like a native, several more with a little trouble and had the basics of at least a dozen more. Thankfully, with the exception of English, most languages had sensible grammar, so a grammar primer wasn't required. Due to being the head of the Varia who had to deal with the reports, he could read at least thirty languages with a degree of fluency.

Lussuria had a tendency to write in Thai or Arabic, while Levi was the only one of his officers who commonly wrote reports in simple Italian. Levi couldn't get pissy at Xanxus, even if Xanxus wanted him to. Squalo had a tendency to mix in French, German and god-knows-what-else while looking for an appropriate adjective. If he couldn't find one, then he'd make one up, usually in English because English was ridiculous and let you do that.

Squalo was not content to just use idiot or stupid as a description; Squalo could call someone at nineteen different kinds of fool and that was just in English alone before the language could be considered impolite. Squalo was specific about the context of his words so the different between a blockhead and a fucktard was made apparent. A blockhead was just being stubborn and stupid, while a fucktard was making decisions so fucking stupid that even the mentally handicapped wouldn't make them.

Bel was honestly one of the worst about pissy written reports; he loved using odd European dialects and languages from tiny republics, places with a still active and ruling monarchy and the more obscure the better. Bel officially spoke thirteen languages, but he could read and write in at least twenty more. The actual worst about using unusual languages in a written report was Mammon who lived for all those ancient dialects, dead languages and fucking obscure ones who maybe had about a hundred people speak it. The Varia had to be the only mafia organization that accepted paperwork written in Hieroglyphics and Ancient Greek. Xanxus did not accept reports written in Sumerian or Mayan, because he had to draw the line somewhere. Never mind that Sumerian was apparently 'the original accounting language' or that Xanxus did actually know how to read it; he didn't _want_ to read it!

Generally, there was a reason that Bel and Mammon got along beyond Bel being free enough with the money he earned to borrow Mammon's books. It wasn't a well advertised fact but the two of them did like poetry and linguistics in general. Mammon loved the images poetry created while Bel appreciated the word choice. As Bel actually was a prince he knew the importance of language, especially diplomatic language. He just didn't use it much since he liked being an assassin far more than being a prince.

As Head of the Varia, and a man who was raised to be the Vongola Boss for all that he was forever and always disqualified from having the title, Xanxus knew the importance of language, word-choice and tone.

Xanxus disliked speaking for a variety of reasons. He had to do it, the idiots couldn't read body language, and he lacked the socialization necessary to make speaking of nothing and everything at all easy for him.

Formalities, orders and insults were already pre-scripted and could be chosen and used at any time. Other words, words to make peace, to open other's eyes and see the world or situation in a different light were generally beyond him. He didn't have a poet's appreciation of beauty, or a decent sense of timing for when to say something half of the damn time.

That could be because he was a consummate cynic when it came to words and knew their power. The words, _l__ies,_ others said could wound where nothing else ever could.

No words had ever hurt so much as, "You are my son."


	33. Chapter 33

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the working Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Anticipation<strong>

Reading Squalette's body language told him that she was all nerves and gumption. Picking up a catalog complete with pictures and lot numbers for the both of them, they were directed to a small secluded table. The waitstaff and caterers were well-trained from what he could see. Very professional, especially for this world. He hadn't see much of the Marines but what he had seen of them let him know that professionalism was hard to find in this world. It was an absurd world so even sense was appreciated.

Putting his back to the wall, Xanxus looked through the booklet and noticed that it was even indexed by item. The auction staff here clearly knew what they were doing, at least when it came to auctions. As he looked through to notice his guns, highlighted wonderfully by the picture and with a mention they were by his gunsmithing alter ego who had been winning the contests in town left and right. Yeah, very professional as they knew how to sell things.

"See anything you like?" Xanxus asked.

Squalette continued to study the booklet, as she nodded.

"Good. Don't think about stealing anything." He commented.

She lifted an eyebrow.

"Items at auctions like this have tight security, tighter than most governments even, so it's a bad idea to steal from them. Worse is that they have enough pull with people in power wanting their stuff back or the things they paid for to track you down afterwards. The items sold are here are unique so pawn shops will only give so much for them, if they even take them, since selling stolen goods is a crime. If you ever were going to steal from an auction or collector either have a buyer already lined up or a place to store it yourself."

He murmured all this in a way that wouldn't carry. They had arrived early enough that Xanxus could spot any potential troublemakers and have his choice in where to sit for the meet-and-greet show. "Now relax."

Squalette took a deep breath and exhaled.

"All we have to do now is wait, mingle and make connections."

**Mingle**

Xanxus supervised Sammy's first interactions, as she adjusted herself bit by bit into the role of Squalette, the young under-secretary to an older family owned company. This was her first time at an event this large and she was understandably nervous, but she slowly eased out of the worst of her tension. Two introductions in and she was in her element.

Xanxus was the considerate, young business heir, recently installed, polite and a tad overly formal. Well, Sansetto was anyway. He still looked and acted a great deal like Xanxus, but more a Sun-like Xanxus. Honestly, he was creeping himself out acting as such, but Squalette had it even worse; she knew he was a surly bastard who liked to mooch food, so him being somewhat cheerful was just plain weird.

The Xanxus that Squalette knew was an intelligent, prideful, intense and private man of many secrets. Cheerful was just very different, kinda freaky and a little disturbing. That Xanxus was partially channeling the Sun Squad Leader -who was rather more mainstream of a Sun than Lussuria and actually pretty charming- probably made it worse. At least he wasn't channeling Reborn; Reborn was one of those rare Suns who liked to be both physically and mentally active, although 'The Greatest Hitman in the World' tended towards the mental attribute. Reborn was also one of those people that could naturally get away with being the most forceful personality in the room; Xanxus, and Sansetto couldn't.

It was also exhausting. He had no idea how some people did it. That natural cheer and pep that continued on and on throughout the day no matter what. If he wasn't currently surrounded by aliens, then he would have said that morning people and cheery people like that just couldn't be human, or at least human as Xanxus understood humanity. Generally, he found most of humanity to be trash and scum and not worth dealing with unless he was going to kill them.

Being surrounded by assassins, who while brilliant at killing others were far less competent at being people, his definition of humanity was not normal, because most people would not be assassins, especially assassins of such high quality as the Varia demanded them to be; it was very much an assassin and hitman mentality to not respect what wasn't capable of killing them. They could admire someone's genius in creating tools and weapons to be used but that didn't mean they respected the weak and geeky trash. Respect was something earned in battle and in blood.

Thus it was no surprise that this lack of respect for their fellow human beings manifested in varying degrees of social incompetence. Generally the Varia had the gamut of 'completely inept at being human beings' assassins like Levi to 'can pretend to be a sane human being' like Squalo and 'social butterflies' like Luss. It just depended on how they were trained and their own personal inclinations. Social skills or infiltration skills could be developed at any time, but the inclination to do so was not all that common in the Varia; a fair number of assassins were confused about the norms for a lot of social and cultural were beyond their understanding. They knew them, could even act on them but that didn't mean they understood why it was more frowned upon to dig up a grave than to mutilate a fresh corpse. Xanxus chalked that up to desensitization of the mafia to killing and its habit of making messages out of bodies.

At least once his head was swimming with names and connections and notes on who and what they did, along with everything else he could glean from gossip and appearances, the signal was finally given for the smartly dressed crowd to head for the auction room.

**Production**

Unlike most auctions, these people put on a production of their products. It was part showmanship and part hard marketing to everyone in the audience.

Sansetto bid on a few things, which he didn't win. Sansetto had mentioned that he had wanted a few things but wasn't trying too hard to win them. It made Sansetto far more easy-going than the ever competitive Xanxus. It established that Sansetto had some extra cash to spend but wasn't too flush with it.

Admittedly, Sansetto was more sword-guy than a knife-guy like Xanxus. Varia requirements meant most assassins were competent in several weapons. Lussuria might have preferred hand-to-hand but Lussuria was actually trained as a ninja; the Sun Officer was good with kunai, chakrams and all sorts of dirty little tricks. Bel was a wire master, which he combined with his knives and no one wanted to fight with Bel in hand-to-hand or close range period; Bel was a vicious and relentless little scrapper. Xanxus himself was more than competent in hand-to-hand, knives and guns; however long exposure to Squalo back when he was making a name and figuring out his sword style made Xanxus a rather competent swordsman. The damn shark had needed someone to practice against that he wasn't planning on killing and could therefore give him feedback.

So Sansetto bid on swords and more than he wanted to at times, and not just because Xanxus wanted to fake people out about how much extra cash he had.

There clearly was a trick going on, to make people want to bid more. Showmanship was part of it, but the other part had to be the atmosphere. Despite the classiness of the surroundings and the mixed-class affair that it was, people were bidding and flushing cash down into the auction's pockets. As the house was getting a percentage of the profit as a commission, they were just increasing their profit margins.

Whoever it was that was running the place was good. The kind of good that tingled on his burn scars that pricked with opportunity.

Xanxus was going to find out who was running this place and recruit them.

**Intermission**

"Have you gained an understanding of how this works?"

"Lots of show, lots of image and fun buying things they don't need but want for inflated prices. Making connections and such."

"Good, because now we're going to get tested hard, here. People now think they know who we are, and our money limits. Welcome to the world of big business. Don't get eaten little shark."

Now, as a tall and willowy man with pompous curls and his vulturous assistant attached to his arm approached, things were really heating up at the auction.

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><p>Sorry for being late this morning but I had Internet issues, so I'm currently using a library computer. This does mean that I won't be able to update on Thursday or over the weekend if it isn't fixed by then. Holiday weekend, so the library would be closed.<p> 


	34. Chapter 34

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the tired Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Schmooze<strong>

The brief intermission allowed for a bit more business talk than the pre-auction party. It also allowed for dinner.

Again, Xanxus had to be impressed by the professionalism of the staff of the auction house. The seating was at round tables, there was a band playing tasteful music, the wait staff was professionally helpful and ever-present in their uniforms while the food and drink served was quiet wonderful, even by his picky-Boss standards.

The lighting, the decorations and all that were professional touches and said the event planner knew what they were doing.

"Taking notes?" He asked his assistant.

"Yes. How are you doing this so calmly." She quietly demanded to know.

"Practice."

Then the other people at their table were seated, and Xanxus noted that they were people that were more likely to make deals and from what Xanxus intuition was telling him, they were his kind of people.

Great, he'd have to be charming and speak to people. Fuck. Squalette was good but green -even her cover was green- and so he had to deal with people he could respect across a business table. At least it could be a learning experience for Squalette.

**Speaker**

Now, as per usual with boring event parties like this, there would be speakers, just as the dessert and more alcohol arrived. There could be a little dancing should people want to, but most either had what they wanted and would be leaving soon after or would go back to the auction now that the compulsory socialization was over.

Xanxus took a sip and held the wine around his tongue. Thankfully, he was already more Sun than Sky so it would metabolize faster. A general rule was that it was near impossible to get any Sun to stay drunk or drugged, which applied a lesser extent to Skies. The drugs metabolized too fast, which conversely meant that they hit harder and faster than they did in other people. That was the reason that most Suns and some Skies had addiction issues.

He knew what the planners of this auction were doing now, at least. They were lowering inhibitions. There was probably another vapor chemical being pumped in, working the same way, which neatly explained the trick he was looking for beyond mere showmanship and the vocal persuasiveness of the auctioneers.

The various speakers made short, concise speeches that were mostly empty words. Then there were words from the head of the auction company.

Xanxus did a double-take, as the head of the auction and its director nodded in his direction.

Clearly, the Varia was pulling out all the stops to get him back. He knew that director, or _dictator_ might be a better term.

That was the Head of the Varia Housekeeping, recently retired. It seemed somebody _had_ managed to kick the Neo-Primo's ass into gear and ensure things happened in his absence.

Using body language only, the retired Varia agent and the Varia's lost head came to an agreement on when to meet.

At least now he knew what bag of tricks to expect. It explained so much about the auction too. Clearly the Varia's Tyrant was keeping active despite retirement from housekeeping and dimensional displacement.

**Continuation**

Now, feeling much more assured at his chances of getting back to the Varia, he felt a tension he didn't even know he had ease.

Well, that could have been the drugs too. Thankfully, Squalette wasn't much for drinking alcohol, even with the meal and stuck to water. It didn't mean that the water couldn't be drugged, but the crystal was clear so whatever might have been in there was a very small amount and tasteless. Not that a person could really taste all that much and their sense of smell was significantly impaired without training. Humanity really focused on sight as a primary sense.

As the point of the auction was to make money, by getting people to go for broke, the number of chemicals that could be slipped into water and wine without detection was actually pretty high. The number that was useful in this circumstance, was much lower.

He ran over the list of chemicals, their properties and the like in his head as he tried to narrow it down. He wasn't having much luck and not for the lack of chemistry knowledge. A decent knowledge of chemistry was an unsaid requirement for the Varia and most of those that survived did pick it up. Going deeper into biology beyond pure anatomy had that effect, as did rotations through various positions did require it. Paralytics, truth serums, neurotoxins and more all worked through chemistry. He ran through the list and what he knew the market had to narrow it down further, should the time be taken to brew it. He just couldn't test for any of them.

As the dinner party ended, a number of people left as they already had what they wanted. As for some of them that had not bid at all, they were waiting for the after-dinner auction. That was for the more dubious goods that probably broke a number of tax laws and trade agreements. Moral sensibilities were also forgotten about in this part.

This is where the rare goods were and the prices would sky rocket as expected.

"We're staying through this." Squalette commented as they took the seats they previously held, now much more intimate seeming through clever use of lighting. It was a statement of resignation.

"Yes, and if you hadn't noticed yet, the drinks were drugged, and so is the air."

Squalette's eyes widened in surprise, as she struggled to come up with words.

"It's just chemicals to lower inhibitions. They're probably creating a compounding effect with the alcohol. The auction is really going to drive up the prices now." Sansetto replied, smug in Xanxus' knowledge.

**Opening**

As proven by the first item shown -one very large tapestry showing an orgy of women- this was the more interesting part of the auction.

The bidding started low, but quickly reached sums that made the Squalette squeak and gasp in horror. Or that could have been the various items up for sale. Showmanship, history and perfect lighting made the entire auction into a Broadway production to be proud of.

The late night auctions were always more interesting, even in the Mafia for all that some items on sale were in bad taste. Nude paintings, cursed weapons, rare creatures both alive and dead, preserved body parts of the infamous, priceless relics and lost royalty's jewelry were all for sale and up for grabs so long as the money was good. All the items were authenticated as well, as auction houses dealt in trust and reputation as well as goods.

"You are still paying attention to who is buying what and how much right?" He asked, as he bid several million, only to be outbid again.

"Yes."

"Good. Don't forget it."

He had already made his mental books and files, so any observations Squalette had would be added to his. Beyond that, they needed to avoid the vultures who would be absolutely broke and looking to take advantage of a company looking to expand itself. Just because the greater part of the world was naive to bitter business didn't mean that it always would be and if anyone was likely to pick up on how to scam up and coming businesses, then it would be the people here.

**Win**

Xanxus did manage to win one sword for Sansetto; it was a graded sword, as they called them here. It was also cursed, and Xanxus could feel it from where he was sitting.

Cursed objects were always interesting things. Most often they were the work of any half-decent Mist. If they could imagine cursing a bracelet they could do it. If it was a valuable piece of jewelry, complete with gems and the like then the curse could hold for ages.

Rosso, or more accurately Cotone was a ringmaker. He'd have to check for curses when he saw the rings. He didn't know if Rosso could channel her own flames through Cotone or use Cotone's flames or if Desert Flames could curse jewelry anyway, but checking for them, no matter how cleverly hidden was a good idea.

Mists generally were introverted, inventive and creative people. A number of poets, writers, musicians, jewelers and other people who made things had innate Mist tendencies; this occasionally included making weapons. They also tended to be superstitious and amoral bastards out for entertainment, especially if they were mafia raised. Mafia raised Mists tended to be less creative unless sadism was called for.

Looking at a number of blacksmithing legends, like Wayland the Smith or Masamune, they were the nice helpful Mists that were fucking damn rare, or they could have been Skies. The evidence of various tales argued for at least Masamune being a Sky.

Generally because most Mists had a shitty childhood and those that actually were decent people generally lived to be so until they accidentally drove themselves insane. Having nightmares come to life was generally a bad thing as you believed it could happen again, which repeated itself until it was solid fact. You only had to look at Edgar Allan Poe or any number of unfortunate artists or alcoholic writers over history. Lovecraft was a more recent example, and God had that been a mess to clean up after for the American crime families and still was at times. Cthulhu was as real as a Mist could imagine and that could be pretty damn solid. Obviously Cthulhu being Cthulu drove the unfortunate believers a bit more insane being an extra-terrestial god, even if he didn't mean to.

Others like Muramasa, well... the Varia armory actually had one Muramasa sword and it was bundled under lots of seals and chained to the wall until they could actually get a proper shaman or exorcist in. Mammon had tried once before but that sword was bloodlust and wanton slaughter incarnate. It knew it existed to cut and it _liked_ to cut life.

In comparison, the curse on Sansetto's new blade was just an unruly child. Well, actually, Bel was an unruly child. The curse was just an annoyance.

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><p>I'm updating early at the library since it won't be possible to do so on Thursday. I probably won't be able to manage one on Saturday either depending on how quickly the Internet is fixed.<p> 


	35. Chapter 35

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the sleepy Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Time<strong>

The next few items seemed to drag on and on, despite the fact that the auction was as brisk as always. And then, it seemed that time decided to stop dragging and fast-forward to the closing statements and the money processing required for payment of the items bought and choosing if he wanted to do an item pick up or delivery.

Now if only those moronic scientists could hurry up and bring him back sometime soon; he lacked the technology, money and sheer genius that the Vongola supposedly employed to make any headway on his own to get back. He had no idea how long it would take to get him back but having Tyrant here was a good sign; still he wasn't going to stop making plans because delays and unexpected issues could happen. That the years and dates were different and Tyrant having built an auction company -he had actually paid a bit of attention to the speakers earlier- told Xanxus that getting back would involve lots of cross-dimensional telegraph tag up until he was able to be brought back.

That was a process that could take months if not years in his home dimension so there was no telling how long he'd be in this dimension. Still that was no reason to not find a way to live comfortably and keep himself busy enough to prevent boredom; that might make things potentially more complicated in terms of communication issues but that was their problem, not his, as he had to survive in a different dimension instead of mooching off the infrastructure that was present in alternate dimensions. Dying due to poverty or stupidity would be an utter disgrace for a Varia assassin, never mind their Boss even if he was 'lost' in a different dimension. So building up power, influence and guarding Rouge would keep him busy for quite some time.

Time was a funny enough variable in his own dimension; he had no idea how to even calculate or begin to calculate how crossing dimensions effected it beyond making things fucking complicated. As Tyrant had to have left after he did but building up an auction company took more than a few months so Tyrant had to arrive _before_ he did. Possibly, _years_ before he did, in the local dimensional time. That was not a good sign, especially about getting 'rescued' any time soon. So he might as well make himself comfortable and keep busy.

At least building influence, power and the like was simple. Money was easy enough to acquire and he knew enough of technology to create monopolies with ease. The trick would be keeping the World Government from acquiring the 'genius inventor.' That would require a bit of scheming. Influence was also easy enough; with the supposed family background on his company he was putting himself forward as 'old money' if 'very minor.' Guarding Rouge at the same time would be tricky but doable if he didn't mind running up to the wall of exhaustion. He had heard some very disturbing rumors about what the World Government was planning...

As it was, Xanxus was mentally tired due to all the effort of being charming and taking all the mental notes about everything. His mental office desk was covered with files and paperwork that had to be processed which did require sleep. He'd also have to write it all down after the auction.

Squalette however was almost asleep in her seat, swaying with exhaustion. She had the auction booklet and a pen in hand; after getting over being shocked by what was on sale -the nude artworks had been the thing that shocked her the most, which told Xanxus she had probably never had or really even thought about sex, at least in that fashion- she had started making notes. Her writing was sloppy, but legible. She'd have to take time to polish her penmanship.

Setting her on her feet, he dragged her towards the exchange.

**Exchange**

While most people would prefer to pick up their items and money later, Xanxus was not one of them.

The efficiency and professionalism that characterized the entire auction was Tyrant's work. Admittedly Tyrant when immersed in a non-violent role wasn't too bad, if rather zealously perfectionist. Tyrant being in an actively violent role however... more than a few of the Varia had nightmares about what would happen when and if Tyrant was ever allowed to be field-active again. Generally because Tyrant was a masterful killer and wasn't bothered about killing or almost killing subordinates who didn't meet every standard Tyrant set. Death due to friendly fire was always a distinct possibility and historical fact when dealing with Tyrant. It made Xanxus more _merciful_ than Tyrant by a fair margin.

Xanxus at least let them go with a beating since dead subordinates don't learn and crippled subordinates had issues killing people until they learned to either compensate, healed or were forcefully retired. A beating could be made painful but wouldn't put them down for more than a few days at worse. Breaking sixteen bones would take more than a few days to recover from even with Sun Flames speeding up the healing process. Death obviously couldn't be fixed.

As it was Sansetto's company that sold the weapons, he received the money for that. As he had personally paid for the cursed blade -he could feel it was a wonderful curse too- he had to personally pay for it. It was very unprofessional to use money from the fledgling company for personal reasons.

Then he had to escort Squalette home. While he was mentally tired and needed sleep, he was still physically keyed up from being Sansetto for so long. Sansetto was one of those peppy people and he still had a lot of pep in his system that needed to be worked off.

Squalette squeaked as Xanxus took to the rooftops with an assassin's grace, the startled teenager was actually heavier than she looked. He deposited her outside her home, allowing her to stumble in and closing the door behind her.

Then he disappeared back to the rooftops and broke back into his hotel room.

**Examine**

The first thing he did with the cursed blade was lay it on the floor before him. He first examined it with his aura alone. All it confirmed to him was that it was cursed, and the nature of said curse.

The blade had been _made_ with a blood-letting curse and a vampiric-style drain. Together, that meant that the more blood it spilled, the more it drained the opponent and restored the user in almost equal measure; it was a pretty sophisticated curse. Unfortunately, another couple of curses were quickly integrated into the blade through use and delusional power trips brought about by the vampiric-style drain; blood lust and madness.

Releasing the illusion over his hands, face and hair, Xanxus then used the Mist Flames to change his perception of the world. It was not a trick to do lightly; some things you did not want to be aware of. You really did not want to know. There was a reason that a lot of shamans and priests used mind-altering drugs whenever they had to do a ritual, as some drugs provided a buffer between the mind and reality. However this little trick was needed to see how and if he could exorcise his sword of the blood lust and madness curses that had been built over the ages.

The results told him that he did know how and could get rid of the extra curses; Squalo's sword needed purified on a yearly basis, so to get rid of the gunk curses required a few purifications. Whoever had made the sword had been good, but he hadn't given the blade sentience which was very good since sentient blades were rarely good things; the Muramasa the Varia had would 'talk' to people in the room with it. However, he didn't have the supplies needed to cleanse the blade at the moment and the additional curses worked on _proximity_ and not prolonged contact.

So, for the time being he'd have to make a quick containment field. As he wasn't a Mist, he couldn't just imagine one and call it done. That was an upper tier Mist skill, that as a Sky, he couldn't perform, so he'd have to make do. Sacrificing a white, fine-cotton shirt, he tore it into strips and retrieved some of the ingredients for flame-proofing clothing. Mixing a simple solution of salt, water and a few other things, Xanxus finger-painted a containment ward into being with Mist Flames and the mixture. Both sleeves were also subjected to the process as well.

Then without further ado, he tied one end of each sleeve shut, slide the sword in between them both and had the sleeves overlap. Then he tied on the strips of cloth to hold the package together.

Another examination led to the fact that the containment was holding and his hotel room hadn't been stained with the curses and neither had he, so it was safe enough to catch a bit of sleep, except he wanted to get the notes written up now while impressions were still sharp and fresh.

So, a late night burglary of a few notebooks.

**Shorthand**

Xanxus had to meet up with the Clydes in the morning again mostly to mooch breakfast, but he also had to pay Barret for the use of his facilities and compare notes with Squalette.

Quite literally notes. Xanxus had picked up a few notepads at an art store and had been filling them out in shorthand with his right hand. He was ambidextrous with a pen but with his right he didn't have to worry about smearing the ink.

He was literally drawing up profiles for everyone they meet and they were introduced to during the auction. There were also people of interest to consider, to cultivate or eliminate as need might be. A few quick lines allowed for the shape of the face, hair and other important details to be added. Scars, tattoos, and birthmarks were noted if they were able to be seen.

Details about personalities, vocal tics, habits and preferences. How they held themselves, a basis of their goals, the amount of money they bid, what they bid on and implications of such.

This was strangely an automatic process, which left his brain feeling mellow now that it was void of the buzzing information.

Then looking at the last page of notes, he realized he wrote it all in short hand, in a mix of at least eight languages on this page alone and with very dubious grammar. It was all stream of consciousness so insults were mixed in with observations or were the observation. He noted that a lot of the insulting observations were in English as 'prick,' and 'dickhead' or other similar terms which was clearly the shark's fault. Skimming through the previous pages, Xanxus noted other potential issues. There were also references to religion and books and more that didn't exist in this world, at least from what he could tell.

Fuck, he was going to have to re-write all of that. _By hand_.

Well, no, the fuck he wasn't. The 'Lovely Ghost-Writer' technique was the reason the squads usually delegated the writing of reports Mists. It was quick and efficient and actually so traditional it was practically protocol for any small deployments, should the mission require a Mist. Large scale deployments mobilized the entire active contingent of the Varia so the Officer was in charge of reports then.

Surrounding the pen with Mist Flames shaped into a hand, Xanxus opened a fresh notebook and wrote out the profiles in the mix of alphabets and languages that the newspaper commonly used.

That chore done, Xanxus decided he was in need of sleep.

**Comparison**

Looking over the Squalette's notes told him that while observant, she wasn't exactly a trained profiler, so comments about personality -oh, she called that guy a dickhead too- were limited.

Some things she noted was more about quality of clothing and romantic status; bored wife, trophy wife and idiot husband were all noted. Other comments such as 'wandering eyes' or 'heavy drinker' or 'smiles after lying.' It was crap that Xanxus hadn't exactly put down so it was added to his reports by his own hand in the way this dimension commonly wrote things.

From what he could tell, the reason things were written that way was due to the vast differences in the educational level in the population. Illiteracy was actually a major problem here, so combining the formal kanji with katakana and romanji actually made it so that more people could read things. How well it actually worked out was debatable since Japanese wasn't exactly the most clear-cut and concrete language.

She also didn't have her notes organized very well, which would need to be fixed. She was smart enough that a mere example would teach her how that worked.

Squalette flipped through the notes he had made, amazed and clearly reading through them.

"Have you slept since then?" She asked.

"Several hours actually."

Squalette looked disbelieving, as did her siblings.

"Now, how much do I owe you, Barret? I've got a meeting to go to in an hour."

"Wait, you have a meeting? With who? The only people we we're going to deal with arranged a late lunch and a dinner deal!"

"Yes, but I'm having a meeting with the Dictator of the Auction."

"You know each other? But- the drinks, the air! Drugs!" Squalette guessed the first out of sheer intuition itself, but she did have a point about going to visit someone who had willingly and purposefully drugged over three-hundred people.

"Yes, well, that was only business. Nothing personal. Nothing is ever personal with that person."

"That was a set up? You utter fucking bastard!"

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><p>So posting this chapter from a relative's home who has Internet; I hope the problem will be fixed by Monday because if not, I'm probably going to get very mean and nasty to the Internet people. Like stab with a fork until they're a mutilated corpse nasty.<p> 


	36. Chapter 36

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the surprised Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Varia<strong>

The Varia organization was officially the youngest of all of the Vongola's Houses. The Vongola was comprised of several organizations, all supposedly working synergistically; checking and balancing each other in an intricate system. The truth was the whirling dance of words and violence that was mafia politics had long since devised a pecking order. The Varia existed outside of it, only answerable to the Vongola's Boss.

In comparison to an organization or House like the CEDEF, which had been around since Primo's time, the Varia was an unruly terror of a problem child. Officially anyway.

Ricardo, the Secondo, was the person who created the position that would eventually become the hitman in the mafia, at first as a way to keep the peace and then as enforcers of it in anyway possible; it was not a proud accomplishment but it set the bones for what the Varia would eventually be. It was the mercenaries, that Ricardo kept on retainer as hitmen, that would eventually be the first incarnation of the Varia, long before it was the Independent Assassination Squad.

Having highly skilled hitmen on retainer was from then on a Vongola tradition, as they could then go out and kill whoever was needing to be killed. Nono, just happened to have the Greatest Hitman in the World on retainer, but other Vongola Bosses didn't have Reborn. Admittedly Nono had Reborn from long before the man actually _was_ recognized as the World's Greatest Hitman, so you could argue the man had just gotten lucky.

It was however war that defined the squad of hitmen, turned assassins into what they would eventually become.

Italy had a history of being dominated by foreign powers, so learning languages had always been a must, as was the court politics and all the details of foreign and local powers; most of the older mafia families required their heirs, bosses and top people to be fluent in at least three. As assassins it was especially needed if they wanted to be successful at getting somewhere to kill whoever since travel and information moved so much slower then. Letters could take months to reach the recipient, and travel could take equally long if not longer. This had resulted in screw-ups before the Vongola's Quinto decided that if he was going to have assassins on retainer, they'd at least have a base in every country or region of importance; few bases survived World War Two but at least if one assassin went traveling another could follow through on the killing order.

It was in the 1800s that a lot of political set-ups eventually led to the wrong political party getting power in Italy. That was how Benito Mussolini managed to involve the nation in World War Two.

World War Two was mostly credited with a lot of destruction, particularly of the Italian economy and death of its citizens, particularly in the north. It was however what had birthed the Varia, in its official present state.

It was the Ottava who unofficially created the Varia, as the Independent Assassination Squad. The original intention was to be able to have more highly capable teams of people dismantle the Fascist Regime, which they did with great efficiency and glee. The _Independent_ part was _required_ because communication with each other was limited due to spies and they had to go to work without Ottava micro-managing their every move. It was the Varia who killed Benito Mussolini and hung him upside down in Milan to show off the fact the dictator and German puppet was dead.

However, post-war, a lot of the Italian Resistance turned to crime out of desperation due to the destroyed economy and that was the birth of the modern mafioso image. Guns, violence and crazy soldiers all trying to stay alive and protect what was important to them. The Vongola had to protect its people and its territories from these new upstarts, so they found a way. As Daniela and her Guardians could only do so much, she relied on the group that supported her fully during the war.

Thus the Varia in its modern incarnation was born, and made semi-official.

Having a pack of highly trained assassins on call, after some very public hits cemented the Vongola's reputation as top-dog of the mafia. It also stopped a lot of the petty feuding between bands, as they organized into famiglias of their own and sorted out their businesses and the like so as to avoid meeting a messy end.

In some ways, the Varia were the peacekeepers Secondo had wanted; they were proactive in ensuring it and willing to kill to keep it too.

**First**

While some people like Dino would claim Tyr was the first Boss of the Varia that was a lie; he was the first officially named Boss of the Varia in the general mafia history books. Some histories, like the origin of the position of hitman and of the Varia were kept secret and buried.

The unofficial Primo of the Varia was a Visconti; the original squad had their names immortalized in the Varia history books. They didn't make it through the Second World War, but were remembered forevermore nonetheless.

The Visconti family, being traditionally Clouds, might also be why the Varia was the _Independent_ Assassination Squad, based away from proper Vongola territory. No one is quite sure how the Varia ended up with an actual Moorish castle, but post-war, they made it their headquarters. Then as chaos of rebuilding continued, they fought, recruited and fought some more, frequently among themselves. During World War Two, the Varia ran through a number of bosses and members. Post-war, the survivors looked at each other and said that's the standard ability that the Varia needed to have.

Post-war had the Varia at loose ends, which was dangerous for assassins to be at. So the idea of taking on other missions that people couldn't, wouldn't be able to do, much less survive came about. It kept the Varia busy, visible and rich. A lot of that money was funneled towards the Vongola House to fund various projects needed to pull off the Italian Economic Miracle and turn the Vongola into 'the richest, most influential Mafia family in the world.'

Honestly, the Vongola had always been affluent but supporting its people and territory during and immediately after the war had drained their liquid funds to previously unheard of levels. The Varia being made out of patriots and converts to the Vongola cause were willing and happy to donate to the rebuilding efforts.

That probably gave rise to a lot of the 'Vongola is built on a mountain of corpses, drenched in blood and sin' business too. Because, that's how Vongola got the money to become the modern empire it was.

**Tyrant**

The Varia quickly built their traditions, their organization and the like by keeping the war model they had been using. A few traditions however were unique to the Varia, being ceremonial fights or duels to the death or first blood. One very unique aspect was the fact that killing your superior was a legitimate way to gain that position as Bel proved back when he was eight. The last was that dignity really didn't have any place there. There was nothing dignified about death after all, no matter where or how you encountered it.

This was an organization of assassins, made by assassins, for assassins. Normal things like job training didn't happen except on rare occasion. If you couldn't do your job, you either learned, died or found someone to do your job for you; any method was allowed for persuasiveness so long as it worked. There was a reason that Squalo was able to hold the Varia for him, even while he was frozen; some of the old timers had later remarked that Squalo had found a good Boss for them.

At the time it had been incredibly patronizing for Xanxus to hear -it was, however, not the worst thing he had ever heard about himself- but it was more a compliment to the shark's ability to find someone to do the job he obtained by killing Tyr so the shark could get back to doing what he wanted. That was pure Varia sentiment there; once you were Varia there were remarkably few rules beyond survive and get the job done, so threatening to kill another member so you could get out of guard duty was allowed. So passing the position of Boss over to an outsider? Allowed, and acceptable provided he or she was Varia Quality.

Still in that post-war environment, the Varia was semi-officially created and organized but unofficially a mess of assassins recruited from every corner of Europe and a good chunk of Africa and Asia and willing to kill anyone they didn't respect.

It was in that environment that Tyrant first entered the Varia, promptly killed the then Boss and took over.

Sixteen corpses, seven people crippled for life, numerous broken bones and even more numerous bleeding wounds later, Tyrant reigned supreme and untouched. Tyrant's first order? Clean yourselves up and stop bleeding all over my floors.

Tyrant was obeyed.

**Office**

The office was very barren, in the emotional sense. The desk was handsome wood, the bookshelves full of rich looking books, the carpet plush and darkly hued. The walls were off-white due to age. There were however no paintings, no mementos and nothing else to leave a hint of personality.

The retired Head of Varia Housekeeping looked just like Xanxus remembered. Tyrant's face was a little wrinkled, the eyes still a glowing shade of blue and the artfully styled hair still blond, although Xanxus didn't know if that was natural or dyed.

Instead of saying anything, Tyrant pulled out a file and handed it to him to read.

**Troll**

Reading the file was_ interesting_. Not interesting in the 'oh, that's neat' or 'this could be useful.' It was interesting in the 'fuck me sideways, I'm doomed anyway' interesting.

"Any list of locations that you know of when and where my people will show up?"

Tyrant pulled out another file, and opened it. There was a list of date and times both locally and at home on the first page. Also included was who went where and what had happened. It was very lacking in detail, but that was probably intentional on his future self's part since his future self knew his past self would figure it all out... eventually. He knew how he thought after all.

"So, I'm going to be working to avert paradoxes for a while. At least my calendar is mostly clear."

Receiving memories of your future self once was enough; this was clearly no time travel on his part however. Everyone else however? The timelines between dimensions mis-matched and sometimes quite fucking badly. In a few cases, he was actually there to meet whoever was there but clearly however they wouldn't or couldn't bring him back for some reason or another. Some of them he had given something, orders or goods or whatever to send back like he had clearly done for Tyrant. Tyrant wouldn't have the information and still be here otherwise. In theory anyway...

At least they were trying to bring him back, even if they were failing quite fucking spectacularly at actually accomplishing it. Some people ended up here _decades_ before he did in local time.

Those that were at least were on record. He was reasonably certain the records Tyrant handed over to him were altered, possibly on his own future order. Some of the initial 'oops' tests before they figured out how to recall people back across dimensions? He wouldn't be surprised if Rosso and the like were at least partially descended from them. It at least explained Rosso's accent. If he was in his home dimension he would place her as clearly from Venice.

As the Sawada-brat and his guardians proved, speaking a different language with completely different pronunciations could be difficult when you didn't learn it young even if you had been speaking it for years; even the Varia had people mispronounce things on occasion when their brain got confused. Considering how long Japanese had been the main language worldwide here, he expected some corruption of the language and accent. Rosso's was tellingly and disturbingly clear.

"No, but you do give me an order for when I go back to put myself on active duty once again."

"The time between dimensions isn't stable then." Xanxus commented more than asked.

The evidence was in his hand and in his face. He clearly couldn't do anything about that. He was however, more than a little amused at the idea of there being_ two_ Tyrants keeping an eye on the Varia for him in his absence, at least for a bit; he wasn't sure how long this Tyrant would be over to give orders on his behalf before the past Tyrant was sent back or decided to come back to this dimension. One was already more than most people could cope with.

That is if the timelines allowed that; the cow-guardian's bazooka only exchanged your present self for your future self -specifically a future you that was ten years older- for five minutes. As this was between two totally different dimensions, who the fuck knew what was possible and allowed? That five minute time frame could stretch for hours, if not longer on either side.

Still, at least his preparations here weren't going to go to waste.

"It depends on your Flame Attribute, or that's the working theory." Tyrant replied, understanding the implied question and answering that.

"Give 'em hell, Tyrant, and pass on a message for me."

"Oh? Do tell."

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><p>Internet is fixed. Cue celebration.<p> 


	37. Chapter 37

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the studious Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>List<strong>

The meeting with Tyrant really seemed to drag on, and compress time all at once. Xanxus had a lot to think about and less than optimal time.

First, Xanxus had to figure out what his future self wanted his past self to figure out. Fooling yourself was actually pretty easy if you knew how. Doing so however wasn't very good for your mental health, even if it was the future you and not the current you doing it.

Second, Xanxus had to make a list. Several, lists, as it turned out. Questions he wanted the idiot scientists research answers to, a few things to test, who was to know of him being dimensionally displaced and what they were to do about it.

The 'Expert' list as Xanxus dubbed it was short but he expected results. This list would be the ones he would consult and have test a few things for him.

Verde would be in it for the science alone, while others were on there for their brains and expertise in time travel and parallel dimensions. Which meant Byakuran, the belly-aching redhead, and the cow-guardian at least. A few others would likely be pulled into the research like Giannini or his father Giannichi since how he arrived here was an error involving a weapon, or its ammo anyway. Those guys could get all mad science happy with each other, blow up a few laboratories and find a reliable way between dimensions.

Xanxus knew the basics of dimensional theory but the mechanics of it was not something he liked to think about. That Byakuran was clearly holding onto sanity by his fingernails was evidence enough of it being something best left alone. Byakuran did not trust himself with power and so used Yuni as a barometer to decide things. Enough of life's hard knocks could break people in their teens or even younger, and since Byakuran shared his mind with_ all_ his alternates meant all the mental issues added up.

The other set of 'Experts' were the Shimon famiglia, Talbot and Kawahira. Xanxus needed to know exactly how Flames of the Earth differed from Flames of the Sky beyond the obvious. Flame Science was a tricky and newly developed field. A lot of recent mafia technology was based on Flames of the Sky, from box weapons to mini-moscas and more. This meant quite a bit of experimentation with Flames of the Earth, which Verde would be in raptures about.

Talbot was needed for a a few confirmations and ringmaker questions; questions like could an excess of Flame-quality ore or crystal cause weather abnormalities to the point of effecting entire islands? The islands in the Grand Line had their own damn magnetic fields, so any seasonal abnormalities would have to be cause by something, so why the fuck not?

Xanxus was pretty sure Bel and Squalo could bellow at the Neo-Primo until he caved and asked the Shimon nicely, since they were unlikely to refuse the Boss of the Vongola even if he wanted them to be lab rats. Well cared for lab-rats treated respectfully, but still lab rats. They might even be interested in the results themselves; it wasn't like they had as much influence to draw on as the Vongola did. Daemon Spade did massacre most of the famiglia, when the current generation was young so what they learned or knew of Earth Flames was minimal or self-taught.

Kawahira would be the wild card however. The Acrobaleno and the others involved in the trials understood his position, in fact, some could even admire his ruthlessness but he was the only Flame Person they had left to consult. Xanxus wanted to confirm if any Flame People of the Earth had ever been around, what could feasibly happen if they went to war and the last question for Kawahira involved a curse.

The Acrobaleno curse was unique but Xanxus was pretty sure that being turned two was only an accidental side-effect of having the power of the world rest on your shoulders. So having hundreds more sources of power would in theory make the 'curse' lighter. Something like an inability to swim...?

Xanxus had his suspicions about Devil Fruits and only Kawahira could confirm them.

**Concerns**

Other things that had to be addressed based on the list he had given himself in a roundabout manner.

First off, he had to assure the Varia that he was fine and set up details for their care in his absence, as well as see about setting up somebody for brat patrol so the Neo-Primo got things done. Squalo could have organised that and probably would until orders said otherwise, but according to the list, Squalo had visited. So orders in case of Squalo's absence had to be given too...

Squalo's visit was clearly important. Squalo was notably one of the few people who were mentioned by name. Clearly, that was fucking important, as the others weren't, even in the earliest experiments; nice to have proof that the records he was handed were altered. Squalo had visited, when the scientists were still figuring out how to get to the 'right' time and place since the shark arrived a little later than Tyrant but in a far different region and had already been recalled. Timelines mis-matching and the amount of ocean made coordinates to and from a place that much more difficult.

Due to the nasty illnesses here, he did not want Squalo here while he was immuno-compromised or using part of his energy to pretend his transplanted heart was his own. The shark was lucky that he had enough Mist Flames for that to work and not impair him. The damn Vindice had ripped out Squalo's heart during the Acrobaleno Representative Battles, so the shark had needed a transplant. Normally he either took immuno-suppressants or used an illusion to make his body think the heart he had was his own natural one.

As Squalo would not disobey such orders due to health concerns and the fact that Xanxus told him not to fucking do it, Squalo either had to grow a new heart or have his transplanted heart turned natural. With his new knowledge of Earth Flames -fuck, it was annoying to remind himself that it was Flames of the Earth, instead of just Dying Will Flames- and what he could remember about stem cells, the shark might get his own heart back in a few months. Civvie science would have a large period of testing but this was the mafia; unwilling human experimentation was heavily frowned upon but it happened, but Xanxus was pretty sure the shark would be glad to have his own heart again. The Vongola at least limited itself to testing poisons and medical breakthroughs a few times on enemies, prisoners and traitors just to work out the kinks.

He ignored the nagging feeling that he was dooming the Shimon because if the shark got his heart back, well, immortality wasn't that far away. In theory anyway, especially if there was a Mist who was capable of body hopping.

Second, he didn't want anyone here who couldn't appreciably blend. This didn't limit itself much in the Varia but it would prevent idiots like the Sawada-brat's Storm from blowing up an island because they didn't worship some pipsqueak they'd never met before. The Varia as a whole were not impressed with Gokudera Hayato; the Storm Guardian knew explosives, but clearly the devoted puppy missed the fact that explosives were _supplementary_ weapons for all that he could manage all sorts of tricks with them. Once he was out of explosives, he was practically defenseless; he was especially doomed in the rain where fuses couldn't stay lit.

Knives, swords, wire-masters, poison experts and the like with appropriate language and social skills only as well as all those old-time sailor skills he'd been forced to learn on the fly. Preferably people who were more ninja than Varia assassin so they had to have proper social skills and intelligence gathering in their background. Transport was a major issue here, as they couldn't provide their own using Varia or Vongola resources. Tyrant probably could now that a business and possible base was established but the likelihood they'd actually land in East Blue, where and when they were supposed to be without issues... until the technological and logistic kinks were worked out better to assume the teams were on their own for transportation.

As for a preferred team... that would be Luss teamed with either Glasgow or Kuchisake. Probably both, no matter how much it would make Luss look like a pimp. A pimp that would make no money off his 'girls' because of a few reasons.

Glasgow was a girly-looking guy and part of Squalo's Rain Division, nicknamed due to the fact he liked decapitating people at the jaw. Sometimes he used an ax, sometimes a sword but usually he preferred a machete. Despite how polite and put-together he looked, he was an unrepentant psychopath who rarely saw those he killed as human. He actually knew how to sail and navigate because he liked to fish -mostly so he could cut off their heads- so he was someone the Varia turned to when it was best to take any sort of water transport, motorized or not. He could also behave politely, which was always a plus.

Kuchisake on the other hand was a complete horror fanatic and it showed. The Mist Squad Leader, was ghost pale, had an actual glasgow smile complete with stitches and bleeding eye make-up. Despite the fear-inspiring appearance, she was polite and formal to a fault if completely bat-shit crazy when fighting with her knife. While most Mists had a weak constitution and physical strength, Kuchisake was capable of some really inhuman feats of strength thanks to the power of imagination, and the little bit of Sun Flames she could use.

Third, there was what to inform the Varia and everyone else cleared to know regarding where he was at. There would have to be enough background information, which meant a presentation of the basics of this world. Geography, language, level of technology, cultural norms and the like would have to go in it, along with some of the absurdities. Because this world was still absurd for all that he was getting used to it. Hell, he might even send over a pair of den-den mushi and some seastone if he could get his hands on it. Clearly he needed to prepare for recording the presentation, which meant more theft and buying things as needed like maps and star charts.

Forth was orders. Orders to whoever first arrives to not use flames like an idiot because it would bring the World Government crashing down on their miserable little heads. Orders to learn the skills they needed to learn if they were going to come after him. Orders bring Tyrant back to active service, orders to send Tyrant over and create the auction house and...

"What did I specifically order for you to do, once you were over here and how did that work into my plans?"

Tyrant smiled.

The meeting dragged on.

**Press**

By the time Xanxus had left Tyrant's office, changed into something business casual and returned to the Clydes to pick up Squalette, he was running later than he wanted to be.

"Exactly how do you know the Auction Head?" Squalette asked.

"Ty was a mentor once, back when I was employed under someone else." Xanxus replied, bending the truth so much it was almost a lie.

Tyrant's office had reminded him of the name Tyrant was going by: Ty Elie. So Xanxus was going to use that name instead of the one Tyrant had earned by ruling the Varia with a steel fist; an iron fist was not good enough to rule the Varia like Tyrant did. Ty Elie was a pretty innocuous name, all told if you didn't know the significance behind it. Then it was a little bit horrifying and disgusting even by mafia standards, but pretty damn normal for some of the Nazi horror stories.

"I suppose an assassin's education is very thorough then." Melrose surmised.

"I knew I liked you best." Xanxus absently informed the boy before he kidnapped Squalette for a working lunch with one of the businessmen from the auction.

**Dealing**

The late lunch worked out well, as paperwork was exchanged and small talk was made. Xanxus then discovered something about being Sansetto; he was chatty. Not small-talk chatty, but more willing to debate points, and verbally troll people.

This didn't make Sansetto any less intelligent or charming to the people he had just received a cool sum of twenty million from once Xanxus looked over the contract for any legal issues. Sansetto was ruthless in his passive-aggressiveness. How unusual for him and Suns in general; Suns tended to bulldoze over people, even without meaning to. Rains were the passive-aggressive ones.

He and Squalette allowed the other people to disappear first. Then they ordered dessert.

After that was finished and their half of the bill was paid, Xanxus whisked Squalette away and showed her how to read legalese.

While she quickly understood all the loopholes and traps, Squalette did have another issue. She could only read a few hundred kanji, which was not enough to be considered literate, especially in formal documents. Lawyers and the like were considered 'scholarly' which was about three steps up education-wise from 'barely literate,' so getting her to know the ten thousand kanji required for that wouldn't be too hard so long as she applied herself to learning the kanji like she did the market.

Clearly this would be an issue, one that had to be fixed quickly or her cover would fail. At least she could practice her penmanship at the same time. A kanji dictionary would not be that hard to find, or if the worst comes to the worst; make.

**Next**

The following business meeting over an early dinner was more to Xanxus' taste. They arrived early enough to hammer out the deal and contract and legalese before the food arrived.

The food was worth the incentive to work fast, but even so Xanxus knew this trick and more. He could tell that he earned the business man's respect, even if he was currently a small business shark in this world's economic pond and not negotiating for the Vongola like he would have been if he had the bloodline to become Decimo.

Clearly, not all the people here was idiots even if they couldn't always read the language they spoke.

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><p>You guys do remember that I do take prompts from every 100th review right?<p> 


	38. Chapter 38

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the superlative Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Career<strong>

Sansetto and Squalette returned to the Clyde's home rather later, where once Xanxus mentioned he was a freelance assassin as opposed to one kept by the World Government the rest of the Clydes were happy to have him continue to mooch food, despite the business dinner earlier.

Again, the people here were freaking weird. Normal civilian people should have more of a reaction to having an assassin in their homes. At least a little more fear, or wariness. They weren't living in Nana-fantasy land since Squalette's ran cons and scams instead of expecting money to appear; she was actually pretty good at them and they weren't the low level cons of 'crying child' or 'help my baby' or any of the lower level traps. Acting, props, costumes, collaborators and preparation placed the younger Clydes as mid-level scam artists, if on a small scale; the only thing really holding them back from a grander scale was that they were young and undereducated. Both of those problems could easily be fixed, which made them a decent find.

He still couldn't quite understand how they were so welcoming to a freelance assassin. Then again, they hadn't seen him kill anyone, had only seen him as courteous and intelligent with an ambition in business who was recruiting Squalette for that and nothing else. Him being a serial food moocher, talented gunsmith and sharpshooter apparently took precedence over his 'former' profession when they'd never actually seen him commit violence. Rage they'd seen, but no actual injuries or deaths.

Then again, in a world where piracy was always an option and stupidly common, dealing with criminals all sorts especially in a weapon business would be something you learned to deal with. They lived in Lougetown, which was the last stop for anyone in East Blue heading for the Grand Line; the town was used to pirates, even if they were from East Blue which was the 'weakest of all seas.' In comparison to the variety of criminals piracy allowed, an assassin is at least a professional criminal interested only in death and not much more than that unless being paid to care.

This world's naivety was a bit endearing when it wasn't being frustrating.

Assassins were made and stayed assassins until they died. Even those who had 'retired' into the Varia's Housekeeping Staff still identified themselves as assassins first and foremost mentally. They'd do that until the day they died.

Assassination was a career that stayed with you and supplanted everything else. An assassin could retire, start a business, build a life, have a family and still identify themselves as an assassin before they said they were a proud parent. Retired just meant that you weren't accepting killing requests and were probably training up a replacement, deliberately or subconsciously.

Being an assassin wasn't like being an accountant, a shopkeep or anything else. You didn't leave work alone when you went home and expect it to leave you alone. It was like being an artist, with murder the medium and death the commission. An artist lived and breathed their work until it was the core of their being and never left their consciousness. Much like any artist, color seeped into their surroundings, spread with careless ease and made them neurotic to varying degrees.

And people wondered why the Varia was full of freaks for all that those same people were unknowing or willing patrons.

**Charts**

He left the Clydes a little overstuffed in the way that those from America called 'full.' While Xanxus would to admit to enjoying the fusion of flavors that sometimes resulted from the mixing of cultures -Louisana's Gator Gumbo was surprisingly good- he didn't enjoy their portion sizes or what they claimed was 'Italian' food. It wasn't, and would not ever be. Gorging yourself was never a pretty sight, nor was getting sick from eating too much.

Rationing resources was the way to go as you could still escape the table at full speed if necessary; that is when the Varia ate at tables together. Most of the Varia took meals in their rooms, some had them delivered to where they were currently at and more just frequently visited the cafe, as a set of rooms near the kitchen came to be called. Properly it was the servant's dining room and a few conjoining rooms back when the castle the Varia Headquarters were based in was used by nobility and royalty alike. The formal dining rooms were never used as they was intended to be; getting that many assassins in one place with food would turn the room into a battlefield since unlike the cafe which had little tables spaced well apart from each other. The only formal dining room used as such had a lengthy and massive dark table with a number of stuffy chairs.

It would be all too easy and tempting for Bel to steal someone's food or for someone to 'accidentally' poison someone else. The largest formal dining room -which was the only one not turned into apartments or some other room- was still set up for formal dining purposes but Xanxus preferred to eat in his office. The formal dining room had maybe been used for formal dining three times since Xanxus took over the Varia.

Once was due to his own 'welcome to the Varia' party thrown by Housekeeping, which is how he learned that hordes of assassins and formal dining don't mix. The other two events was the retirement party of his Cloud Officer and later, for her child's christening as she had wanted Father Gregori to be the one to do that. The dining room and furniture somehow survived those two events, but Xanxus was more certain it had to deal with the fact that the few women of the Varia and Luss were determined to host the events; much like the other recreational events they created Xanxus didn't particularly care so long as it didn't interfere with work. Complaints about hostage-taking, threats to manhood and other crap like 'explosives placed in everyone's rooms!' were ignored; if they could force attendance and good behavior, that just meant that clearly they knew what they were doing and were keeping their skills sharp. The last part, he approved of since them keeping their skills sharp meant that the trash knew where they failed and had motivation to improve.

Still, he had to find charts and other goods, even if just to send back to the idiots who got him in this mess in the first place so they'd know where to drop people off. He didn't want to wish being stranded at sea on any of his people; the stupid scientists were a different story of course.

So accurate charts... looked like he'd be stealing things from the Marine Base again. Oh, and star charts too. Knowing the maps wouldn't be worth much if you didn't know where you were at; maps were inherently useless if you didn't know where you were in relation to everywhere else, especially when civilization could be days of sailing away.

Civilization was such a joke anyway and most people didn't understand the punchline.

**Materials**

Xanxus picked up all he thought he would need as he organized his presentation in his head. Charts of the Blues, star charts, and other goods. What he needed to say, when he needed to say it and to whom; no reason to drive up the tension between Kawahira and the Acrobaleno in attendance by forcing them to spend more time together if he didn't need to. There was also permission he had to give for release of files and missions if he actually had to press certain things or have people press issues for him. Squalo knew them all after all, but some things he didn't have permission to do something about.

After organizing that in his room, he supposed he had better pack. He was going to be leaving soon after all.

Then he noticed that he lacked something to pack everything in; clothing would be easy enough, extra flame-proofing materials could be dumped after he exorcised his sword, the guns however would have to be packed up properly alongside what ammunition he had. He had taken two copies of maps from the Marine store; they had enough surplus there that it wouldn't be noticed, although the missing star charts might eventually be noticed as there were less of them, despite the dust he kicked up uncovering them.

Then there was knocking on his hotel door.

**Surprise**

Long trained reflexes had him refusing to answer the door on principle; instead he escaped out his window, broke in on a lower level and circled around, then went up the stairs.

Spying Rosso and Seta in the corridor told him that it was not an over-reaction. Then he noticed a few other things that added up to one conclusion; Rosso wasn't there, and this was Cotone, as Seta was even more protective of the young body, which was expressing lots of vulnerable body language. Not exactly vulnerable but under-confident and overly anxious added up to the same thing.

Stilling his heart and adrenaline into a calm state was something that was easy with enough close-calls and near-misses; his physical overreaction was due to surprise and lack of action. Not surprising when he went from intense deadly spars full of lethal intent and frequent missions to just sneaking around like a shadow wraith for several months.

Keeping his footsteps silent anyway was easy enough, as was sneaking up on the duo. Seta noticed him first, but only after he was leaning against the wall opposite his door.

"Ah, Xanxus, my apologies for bringing up memories best left undisturbed the last time you visited. Cotone has finished the rings you commissioned and brought them to you."

Cotone, unlike the sly, confident and always performing Rosso was very... shy, was the best term for it. Rabbit-like in that she froze, still and stiff like that.

"Um... delivery is um, free of cha-charge." She held out a case, the size of which told Xanxus it was full of rings.

"Thank you, Cotone." Xanxus replied truthfully, as even if they were cursed the rings could be very useful to him; it wasn't that hard to remove mild and moderate curses after all.

Cotone blushed, eyes dropping to stare at her feet.

**Packing**

"By the way, we still have one other matter pertaining to what's stored in the basement." Seta reminded them.

"And that's not a conversation to have in the hall." Xanxus replied, as he used Mist Flames to open the door without touching it. There was a reason why security systems were complete and utter failures against a well-trained and talented Mists. Prisons were just a teensy bit harder, even if that prison was Impel Down. Vendicare had fallen to a sufficiently talented Mist before and probably would again.

They then saw the mess his room was in, from his preliminary packing which was more of organizing what he was taking and what he wasn't. Then because Xanxus was being paranoid, he used those same Mist Flames to seal the room from any possible eavesdropping, both physically and psychically.

"Rosso!" Cotone, looked on the edge of having a panic attack, and then damage started appearing on her; using his own Mist Flames Xanxus quickly assessed the amount of damage and set up his own illusion to keep Cotone from dying; illusionary organs weren't exactly hard, as they were a mid-level skill, although the trauma of the incident that had Cotone becoming a refugee from death had probably broken her emotional equilibrium and general confidence outside her area of expertise; that explained a lot of her shyness. Xanxus could keep those fake organs going for a few hours easy although maintaining them with ease was something only actual Mists could do, or maybe Deserts.

He had judged the relationship between Cotone and Ross correctly, except unlike the Sawada-brat's duel Mists, there was less teaching going on. He might have to actually teach her how to hold them on her own, and that could be done quickly using the memory transfer technique although the difference between Mist Flames and Desert Flames meant she'd have to puzzle out the differences and still practice more until she could hold the illusions in her sleep.

Judging by what he saw of her injuries, Rosso had bonded with Cotone within minutes, if not seconds of the incident; otherwise Cotone would be dead. It was not the slow death of hours that Sawada's lady-Mist would face as her body couldn't keep her alive without the fake organs but a relatively quick one taking only minutes. Mist Flames could replace organs but if the body thought it was fine it would never naturally heal either, which explained why Cotone remained 'young' for years on end. Defying the effects of time on the body could also be done if you were a powerful enough Mist; Xanxus knew he was good at fixing mild to moderate damage but that level of damage was beyond him. Lussuria and Mammon together could fix the worst of it in a few sessions but they weren't here either.

"Cotone, you need to breathe calmly or I will use Rain Flames to calm you."

The shy Desert then regained control of herself, mentioning that 'she was just surprised.'

Xanxus explained that he didn't want to see Rosso, he wanted to meet Cotone, which had her blushing again. Xanxus was certain that if he saw Rosso within the year, he would find it very hard to control his temper. He tried to forget about that part of the visit, as that trash pissed him off.

Seta interrupted, by asking, "Do you need something to pack all this in?"

Xanxus gave him a withering stare, to Cotone's shy giggles.

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><p>I have finally finished my Roger met Xanxus chapter from Roger's perspective for Pirated Perspectives. It's going up after this. By the way, what's with the lack of reviews? I want to hear from more than five or so consistent reviewers and three semi-consistent ones about what they like, dislike and why. Especially the 'why.' Constructive reviews help me write better.<p> 


	39. Chapter 39

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the bashful Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Chest<strong>

Xanxus eventually worked the dimensions for his new chest out with Seta's help. It was a beautiful dark and smooth cherry wood on the outside with a white cedar inside; Xanxus was impressed that there was a Flame out there that actually enabled a person to make a legal living; cabinetry and wood-working in general was an art. Most of the other Flames were ill-suited for everything but combat.

The bottom drawer was where Xanxus placed his spare clothes with a maid's perfectionism. The middle drawer was thinner and currently was empty, but he supposed that he could find something for that section; notebooks, journals and the like, since he really should record what he saw, thoughts and theories about this world if only to have a physical record of all the things that needed to be done, examined and investigated. The top section was large enough to hold Belladonna lengthwise, and the cedar inlay would keep the rifle from shipping damage. A few more cedar 'cut outs' allowed for a bag of powder and a bag of shot to be kept. Xanxus would have to find a few leather straps and buckles but he could secure his recently created pistols in there should he have to; his X-guns were not getting placed in there at all but staying in his Varia uniform's coat. There, they were hidden in their hostlers which were made to prevent them from being noticed, even by high-level Mists.

Another set of cedar inlays allowed for a collection of knives to be stored -it really was a weapon's chest- while a third set of cedar inlays held cleaning supplies for all the weapons. The lid of the chest had three sections that could be pulled down; maps, feathers and extras were placed in there.

One of the crowing glories in it was the now purified blade; it still had the 'curse' it was made with but now it was really performing as it should have been. The blade was still vampiric but since Cotone was happy to play exorcist on the blade once she noticed what it was, it no longer drove the wielder crazy. Cotone's long exposure to Rosso showed; she actually tweaked the curse. Now it could drain flame energy directly; that made it far more dangerous.

Cotone only did that in exchange for Xanxus giving her the lesson in how to hold the illusionary organs on her own. She'd still have to practice and refine her technique but Cotone was not longer completely dependent on Rosso's good-will. Under-confident or not, Cotone had her business sense still and doing a simple job -Deserts were practically Mists in that they were only limited by their imagination and willpower from what he could tell- for Xanxus in exchange for independence was a good deal.

The whole 'weapon chest' business had distracted Seta for a while, until he remembered to ask about what to do with Roger again.

Xanxus was honest.

"I'll ask his lady-love. Queens gets to say where their King is buried after all. You'll get your answer after that."

Somehow this made Cotone blush again -even being socially stunted, Xanxus knew Cotone was clearly crushing on him and fantasizing about something- but he didn't know about what and he didn't care what about really. She was just a little girl and little girls did that; it was amusingly normal really even if Cotone's chronological age should have had her well past that stage. Rosso keeping Cotone perpetually alive and young allowed Cotone to gain experience but not maturity from what he could tell. Cotone would have to fix herself enough -possibly with Seta's help- if she wanted to age physically.

Seta just blinked before he was back to business. "Send my regards and my condolences to her."

Then the ringmaker and her bodyguard left, and Xanxus took down his barrier after thoroughly examining everything in the room. Deserts were practically Mists, so they could easily have left a hidden curse on something.

**Passage**

Xanxus checked the docks early in the morning before the papers were even out; he looked over the scheduling of those taking passengers publicly and he decided that he wasn't going to bother with that today. No one was leaving for South Blue today and taking passengers in the public sector. He'd ask Tyrant to arrange passage back to South Blue for him, and possibly the Clydes; if he was going to set up a proper company then he'd need people to work it for him.

He decided to meet Tyrant early, which involved stopping at his hotel room to shower, change, gain supplies for his presentation, and taking advantage of the breakfast at the hotel before moving on to the auction house. The day's paper was available then and it was still a lot of hysteria over Roger's missing body and the start of 'The Grand Age of Piracy.' Xanxus found the latest rumors to be absurd; ideas that Roger would be sailing the seas as a ghost, protecting his treasure from the unworthy or other stupid shit. Roger had wanted to die, was happy to, so there was no fucking way he'd stay on as a ghost or spirit.

Xanxus then reached the auction house where he met Tyrant. Arranging a ship for his use back to South Blue didn't work out so well; Tyrant had not been able to build a large enough network and business to ensure that Xanxus had a private vessel, so he'd have to hitch a ride and even pay for his fare which did at least include all the food he'd eat. The ship would be travelling lightly when it came to goods, for a ship of that class that is, so they'd have room even if it lacked the kind of style he was used to. Tyrant mentioned he was at least certain that if Sansetto wanted to, he could bring over several others so long as the fare was paid; that was a rather massive hint.

Then Tyrant escorted him to what was clearly a conference room.

Using a bulletin board, Xanxus arranged the maps into a collective whole, which did unfortunately leave the Grand Line a complete blank.

Tyrant had mentioned that they were going to record this presentation so it could be watch directly by those at home; so they recorded it. One camera was a purely technological camera from their home dimension and the other was a modified den den mushi. The people here used those damned snails for fucking everything it seemed._  
><em>

Xanxus hated it: he had to talk, he couldn't pace in the small ass room and the snail was really freaking creepy staring at him like that with those buggy eyes.

It was quickly done however. Xanxus wasn't one for small talk or beating around the bush. He ensured that Tyrant had copies of the physical materials used to take over. He wasn't sure why Tyrant was making a den den mushi copy, as the cow-guardian's bazooka only allowed the person hit with it to traverse ten years of time but he still didn't know if the dimensional variant that the Head of Varia Housekeeping allowed the transfer of other living things.

He asked how that would work. Tyrant told him that he was going to freeze the den den mushi until it cyrogenically suspended between life and death.

Xanxus blanched and decided he'd pass on getting frozen again. He woke up nearly a decade later the first time; no telling how much later it would be in either dimension with the timeline mis-match. He was not getting frozen again _ever_, even if it could bring him home now. The Varia was capable of a lot of normally impossible things, and the Officers more so but there were things that even the Boss of the Varia was psychologically incapable of; willingly getting frozen like that was one of them.

Beyond that, Tyrant didn't know the Zero Point Breakthrough Technique; that was a technique passed down from Vongola Boss to heir, and Tyrant was not the Ninth or the Sawada-brat.

**Offer**

Xanxus then swung by the Clydes to give the offer of taking them to South Blue to make his new company into a successful and profitable business; beyond polite fiction anyway.

Xanxus knew that he was fully capable of doing so himself -it would give him something to do when he wasn't guarding Rouge and he knew how much slower business was in this world due to the lack of air travel so he wouldn't have to work around the clock; water trade was faster than land travel but it was fraught with bad luck, horrible weather and pirates. Moving goods and completing contracts would take weeks if not months depending on where things were shipped to and who was carrying them.

He had an idea of how to initially set the company up because that was the fiction he told everyone else, and then grow it. He'd also be in charge of the books the first few months; Squalette didn't know how to alter them as needed. There was also his business plan to consider which was easy enough to figure out and knock out in less than an hour; the most specific parts were concerning the budget and that he could toss Squalette's way soon enough, once they had actual revenue.

There were a few reasons Xanxus was choosing Machina; local knowledge of what he wanted and a decaying economy to take advantage of and improve. Xanxus knew he wasn't Dino, but neither had Ottava been and she had pulled the Italian Economic Miracle off with a bit of help and strategic violence.

Once the worst of the work was done, he could leave Squalette to manage it and grow it. It would take about a year to work out all the kinks but after that, it would be relatively smooth sailing so he could dump all the work on her.

Which did mean he needed some more funding... luckily there were still plenty of idiots with too much cash in town. Besides, he still had to call Rouge, ask and pass the answer onto Seta.

**November**

By the time November was passing onto December, Xanxus had spent a lot of his free time when he wasn't with Rouge, in Machina getting his company started and settled; it was tiring work but satisfying in a different way than assassination. It was the satisfaction of hard work. He had even discussed particulars of the company's plan and was getting chatty with Barret who really was much smarter than Iemitsu; it was less actual conversations and more of Xanxus speaking of priorities and plans but he was speaking. Barret also enjoyed being back on his old stomping grounds.

Squalette when not going crazy over the budget was settling in nicely to the particulars of her job. The trip through two Calm Belts and the Grand Line had provided a lot of time to learn and practice her kanji; it was time well spent. She wasn't at the scholarly level yet, but most people took years of study to memorize around ten-thousand kanji. She had gone from a few hundred kanji to a few thousand; she was literate and dragging her siblings along with her course of study.

Xanxus was annoyed that he did have to make the damn kanji dictionary himself since the ones that he found in Lougetown were just terrible at being understood by even those that knew all the multitude of characters; he had previously checked to make sure that all the kanji here matched those that he knew, which took a few hours while Rouge was visiting friends in town before Xanxus had ever left South Blue. It was a distracting coincidence much like the calender, systems of measurement, types of food and more but it was damning at the same time since a different dimension with a different geography and history should have a few unique kanji.

The only conclusion that he could draw was that enough people didn't know the damn language well enough to formally develop it further. That itself was suspicious since most inhabited islands were kingdoms, who if they were smart would cultivate an intellectual class for at least government bureaucratic nonsense. Never mind doctors or any other profession that required years of study. If he was sounding like a conspiracy theorist, then that's because he was thinking it. He knew it was easy to keep populations stupid and happy; the mafia did it all the time, as did various governments in his home dimension. The Varia had quite the amount of blackmail on various government officials the world over.

The lower and middle classes were happy enough to eek out an existence, while hoping things would improve. It was the upper classes that could cause trouble as they'd have the education and resources to make it should they ever be so inclined. Xanxus knew the sheer difference in values and culture between the classes first-hand. It was enough to make a slum brat reel and feel like an idiot for years as he learned the difference. The only trouble most of those people would make was if they ever turned to piracy. They didn't know how to campaign for a cause, or have trusted connections since the newspaper would say one thing and pirates weren't considered trustworthy, even if they were good enough to reach the second half of the Grand Line.

Xanxus had also picked up even more money during the trip back from pirates even if he didn't rescue any mermaids this time; money was always a good thing to have an excess of. Money may not buy happiness but comfort and fiscal security spared a fellow the misery and stress that poverty brought. That was something the younger Clydes knew well, and they were happy to work for it.

Cordelia seemed to have found her niche; while she nominally worked security for her sister what she was really busy doing was employee assessment. If it wouldn't cause him to lose his new human resources, Xanxus would train her up as an assassin; she was that good at reading people and acquiring information plus she had the detachment to really succeed as an assassin instead of a spy. Instead he set her to manage people and productivity. She wasn't the most sociable of the siblings but she was very aware of the little dramas and details. It made her a fair if particular supervisor.

Melrose on the other hand had managed to transform into a bastion of cheeriness when he wasn't covered in grease or oil. Mess on Machina seemed to be magnetically attracted to children under the age of thirteen; the mess didn't adhere to gender boundaries either. Thankfully, the guy kept to hygienic kitchen practices and hadn't stopped feeding them all.

The building and business that he had bought needed a complete overhaul and renovation; that was at least something that could be done quickly and easily. A lot of the renovation material had been brought along on the ship -Tyrant's work there and probably on his future self's orders- and so unloaded before it was put to use. The building had good bones, but clearly needed a facelift and remodel which was quickly done.

It wasn't Vongola quick but that's because he didn't have Vongola resources. It was an old joke that Mist Flames had the 'power' of 'construction.' Xanxus certainly used his Mist Flames for speeding up physical construction and not just for creating illusions. Since Mists could imagine things being constructed, lining the nails up and could dry paint quickly with a thought really sped up the rebuilding process; looking at the paint, Xanxus was reminded of lead concerns and was thankful that it tested as lead free.

Lead paint wasn't a problem until it was old enough to chip, which was when it could be inhaled and fuck up the body. Actually a lot of building materials could be fucking toxic once they were in the body; asbestos for insulation and arsenic in wallpaper, although the debate was that Napoleon could have gotten arsenic exposure from a lot of other sources at the time. Arsenic like lead had been used in cosmetics, paint, medicine and everything until people got a fucking clue that heavy metals were bad for them. Arsenic had been used as 'inheritance powder' by the mafia and nobility until plumbing reduced cholera to a third-world disease, because a lot of cholera's symptoms matched arsenic poisoning.

Despite his sudden concern about building materials and brief spell of paranoia of everything else, the business was up and functioning by December. It wasn't hurt by the excess of marines running around rounding people up and killing them; in fact business was booming. Machina was perfect for him; engineers, mechanists and weaponsmiths were in abundance and while Xanxus had never wanted to be an arms dealer didn't mean he couldn't make it his business for now. He knew weapons, knew how to make and use them. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't go beyond that and diversify after that.

That was only common business sense after all.

**Jumps**

Still, for all that he was working on Machina didn't mean he wasn't still staying with Rouge; he was often around, especially early in the morning or the days when she went into town. He had finally mastered what Mists referred to as 'jumping,' with a little practice and a few minor fuck-ups that dropped him into the ocean. It wasn't actual teleportation but it wasn't exactly high-speed movement either. The 'scenery' just seemed to 'jump' as Mist Flames brought the body and mind into existence some distance away; that could be fucking disorienting, since it happened at speed.

It turned two-days travel by ship into a few minutes of lots of blue. Short jumps were much easier than longer jumps; the first time he managed a direct jump from Machina to Baterila he had gotten sick and heaved. He vaporized that mess with Wrath Flames and wash his mouth out once the world stopped spinning on him. It was worth it though as he did need to be around Rouge. Letting his charge be without supervision while he was in Lougetown was bad enough, but had to be done as the trip had snagged him all sorts of interesting information and resources. He did not want to let his charge wander around without him knowing where she was at; by the time they had sailed back to South Blue the search for Roger's child had begun in true seriousness, which meant so had his job.

Long distance Dispersal was a gentler form of 'Jumping' and was a high-level Mist skill, so Xanxus learned to deal with the effects of breaking the range of the mid-level skill because he needed to. Belief that he was getting better at the skill with all the practice, was helping.

Rouge was in turn using a technique to slow down the growth and her own metabolism to prolong her pregnancy which Xanxus found infuriating, frustrating and ingenious by turns. It meant that he couldn't just go ahead and tear the brat out; premature children often needed specialized and intensive care around the clock because they weren't developed enough. It also meant that the pregnancy would be that much harder on Rouge; there were metabolic limits that could be reached and possibly immune system issues and lots of other ways that could go wrong and end with death for both mother and child. Xanxus knew that and he wasn't even a doctor; just an assassin. The only benefit of such a method was the fact that no one would think the child was Roger's as everyone knew it took nine months for a kid to fully develop and that nobody could change that fact; except Rouge of course.

When he first heard that the technique she was using ran on willpower it rang alarm bells; it was one of those things that he intuitively knew she was using her flames for. Flame Exhaustion was no joke, even if passive use did not tire a person out as much as active use did; active use of flames could drop a person into exhaustion in just five minutes, while passive use could sustain a person for _days _even if the fight wasn't spectacular light show.

Still, using flames passively until the genocide in South Blue was stopped was a bad idea since the World Government was settling in for the long haul. A year-long campaign at the very least; he knew it and Rouge knew it. Rouge had probably suspected even longer than he had, if only because Xanxus hadn't been in this dimension long enough to do so. To give himself some peace of mind, he had given Rouge two of Cotone's rings after thoroughly checking for any potential negative additions. Curses were one thing as they were intended to harm, but blessings could be twisted and honestly? Listening charms had never gone out of style for any curious Mist or Desert.

The Sky Ring that Cotone forged was around A-class. More B+ than a solid A-class ring like his Varia-ring though. Rouge was the one wearing that though; he had been surprised that she was a Sky -he had _finally_ checked that as he had previously thought she was a Sun- though but it really only made sense that he was as comfortable as he was around her if that was the case.

Skies were all about acceptance, even subconsciously, so keeping a guest feeling comfortable was expected; touchy paranoid assassin guest or not. She was also wearing the Rain Ring for tranquility; stress was bad for expecting mothers and she had plenty of reasons to stress. Marines, the purge the World Government was conducting and first-time pregnancy jitters were all reasons to stress.

The only reason Xanxus could think of for why the rings weren't lit up and burning brightly was that she was focusing the energy the rings amplified internally. With Rouge's clear resolve, the rings should light up like little suns. The energy being focused internally also explained why he thought she was a Sun; with her slowing down her metabolism and the fetus' too, the extra Sun Flame energy was used to keep her moving and Xanxus could feel that. It was one hell of an aura disguise technique by mere side-effect.

Talking her into wearing them was hard enough. Cotone's Rain Ring was on Rouge's right index, while Cotone's Sky Ring was worn on a necklace.

Trying to talk her out of using the technique and just leaving South Blue was not something that would be done; no need to give the World Government red flags and breadcrumbs like that. Asking her to reverse the technique and speed the pregnancy up was an even worse idea since it would clearly tax both mother and child even more and then they'd have to hide the infant too. Xanxus didn't even try to do persuade her because they were terrible, terrible ideas.

Instead Xanxus found an alternate solution and had perfected the art of transferring flames over, which considering they were both Skies was easier than it might have been. There were numerous ways to do so directly and indirectly and Xanxus knew most of them; there were workaholics in the Varia that needed a flame boost and a beat down to stay down and rest. They would also fucking protest that if their pride wasn't worked around to some degree.

Rouge was a civilian, so it was easier and more difficult in odd ways, but it kept her alive and healthy. Beyond that he was pretty sure that she had been using that technique before he even arrived in this fucking dimension. The way she perked up after the first subtle infusion and subsequent ones was telling.

* * *

><p>Oh, and there's Tsuna next chapter. Because while this is Xanxus-centric, it's still a crossover and people are working to get Xanxus back to the Varia. If only so the Varia doesn't kill them all.<p>

Also if some words are oddly spaced it's the site's fault. It's been overlapping letters and cutting out spaces in the document editor the last few days, especially around the _italics. _


	40. Chapter 40

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the descriptive Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Disaster<strong>

At the Vongola's R&D there was a disaster swamping the premises. Its name was Varia. At least, disaster was what Tsuna first assumed, when the Varia more or less took over the building.

Despite Gokudera's lightning fast conclusions of another attempted coup by Xanxus it wasn't; it was so much worse. Xanxus had _disappeared._

His right-hand's utterance of 'good riddance' had an entire squad trying to kill Gokudera in an instant. Tsuna was ashamed to say that it took Squalo's intervention to get the fight to break up, as while Tsuna had prevented escalation into actual blood and violence he hadn't managed to prevent the arguments and threats. Squalo did, when the swordsman arrived though.

Squalo then punished the squad for 'stupidity on the job' which was pretty painful to witness, so Tsuna didn't want to know exactly how painful it was first hand. He hadn't known that the Varia considered 'stupid' to be a major offence. While Tsuna knew he had improved under Reborn's torture and teaching, he knew he still wasn't exactly smart. Academic information just never seemed to stick until Reborn ground it into his very soul with pain and fear.

Squalo was then on his phone and radio by turns talking in more than just seven languages, which was somehow surprising enough that Gokudera stopped fuming to be amazed by the variety of languages being used, or it might have been the foul language used. Tsuna suspected that he had heard at least ten, but his ear for languages wasn't the best either. He had enough trouble learning Italian, when Reborn had forced him to during High School. The less said about his English grade in school the better; the language didn't make any sort of sense.

He knew he should be more concerned and order Squalo to stop coordinating the takeover of the Research and Development but he couldn't find the will to protest it. Squalo, per usual, was doing everything for Xanxus and Tsuna was also worried for Xanxus too. Some of that was self-preservation though because no doubt the Varia would blame him for this somehow.

Then Squalo turned towards him and Gokudera and in voice that was more 'firm' than loud, ordered him to find the top scientists and those involved in Lambo's alternate ammo projects _right now_.

**Worse**

If Tsuna thought it couldn't get worse, he was wrong. It could always get worse.

Apparently scientists get stupid ideas like everyone else, especially when they're lacking sleep; for most people it wouldn't matter because they didn't have the genius to create or means to do such things, even if it was a stupid idea in the first place.

So some 'fucking nimrod' to quote Squalo -the leaders of the project couldn't remember which one of them it was who first thought of the idea- decided that since the future is ever changing that it would be equally possible to create something that went to a different dimension entirely with a five minute limit. Again, Tsuna found that English was a very strange language since it didn't make sense. He could tell that 'nimrod' was an insulting term, but what did sex have to do with it?

Unfortunately the ammo turned out to be more volatile than Gokudera and it was the bazooka that had the return mechanism that had to be used to bring the person back. As Xanxus had been involved with an ammo accident, they had no idea _where_ or _when_ Xanxus was. They also revealed that several research assistants had gone missing as well, but they hadn't realized previously that this was what had happened to them. That was something that they all found to be astoundingly careless and stupid. Shoichi and Spanner were aghast that they hadn't noticed that their underlings were missing assistants. Something about burnout rate, which sounded like more experimental science talk than anything else.

Needless to say this information had only increased the amount of killing intent the Officers of the Varia were emitting. Not all of them were there -Levi was on a job while the ex-Acrobaleno were all meeting today- but Lussuria was frowning, Bel was sharpening his knives and Squalo was tapping his foot in otherwise complete and utter silence.

All of the signs pointed to them being in a terrible, _terrible_ mood. As the Varia Officers were masters of assassination, Tsuna had to act swiftly to prevent a complete and utter bloodbath.

And he didn't even have Reborn to help him.

**Calamity**

After the explanation of 'we don't know how quickly or if it's even possible to get Xanxus back,' the Varia Officers stopped projecting killing intent and any expressiveness was immediately lost. It was like they had turned to stone but only more terrifying because it was clearly the calm before the storm.

Lussuria's eyes couldn't be seen behind his prescription sunglasses but the tension in his hands and body told its own story. Bel was so still that whenever Tsuna looked at him, the unwilling mafia boss immediately compared him mentally to a trap; a mousetrap or bear-trap that would behead and slice its prey to ribbons at the slightest stimulus.

Squalo however was the worst; he was the tsunami about to flood and the shark about to strike. He was breathing hard but silently in an effort to control himself.

Then Squalo's phone rang and Tsuna would forever after associate that jaunty little ringtone with calamity.

**Call**

Tsuna and the rest of the audience overheard half of the conversation; they couldn't help it. Squalo was the loudest mafioso in the entire mafia in contrast to him also being one of the best assassins in the entire mafia.

"What is it?" Squalo hissed, not like a cat but like a snake.

The hiss was a warning.

"Ah, my pardon, Father Gregori, but there's a situation." Squalo explained in a moderately calmer tone of voice that Tsuna knew to be 'please say what you want now so I can get back to doing what I need to be doing urgently.'

It was also remarkably polite and vague, especially for Squalo. Tsuna assumed it was because Squalo was talking to a priest. Tsuna still wasn't able to understand how the mafia in Italy remained mostly Catholic when from what Tsuna knew of Christianity, it was about helping those in need, and praying to God for salvation and following his will. The mafia were pretty bad at such a religion; the mafia lifestyle broke a lot of the Ten Commandments. Even Tsuna knew that, and he was Japanese, and raised Shinto.

"How do you already know that?" Squalo yelled, the hurt and desperation clear in his voice, as killing intent spiked.

"Is that so?" He hissed again.

"What?!" Squalo practically shrieked, paling visibly, so that the only color on his face was whiter than his hair. Squalo had always had pale colors, with his long pale hair, light blue eyes and skin that saw more moonlight than sunlight, but now he looked almost grey as the news settled in. A drab, horrified gray, edging on green.

"Those are the orders then?" The sword-master looked a little queasy and his voice had lost a lot of its menacing undertones. Tsuna had to wonder what sort of things the person on the other side was saying. A priest speaking couldn't be that bad, since it wasn't condolences he was passing on. But orders? What sort of priest could do that? To the Varia? To _Squalo_? Was it for the pope?

"Understood. I'll pass the message along to Bel and Luss. That leaves Mammon to call later, which you can do since he's at an ex-Acrobaleno meeting, so you can get in touch with that guy too. I've got a brat to press into service." Squalo said as he looked directly as Tsuna.

Tsuna very much felt like he was dinner.

**Reaction**

Before meeting Tyrant, Tsuna didn't know or understand how a few simple words could make the Varia Officers pale so dramatically.

"Tyrant is cleared for active duty." Squalo uttered in the same way a person would say a death sentence for those they knew and cared for.

Lussuria shook, trembled as his jaw moved but all that emerged were choked sounds of disbelief. Bel's reaction was worse as he dropped his knives and his fingers twitched for several seconds, until he let out a plaintive wail. He then fell to his knees and started saying 'doomed' in as many languages and phrases that he knew, which was a lot.

That Bel was saying 'we' and not in the royal sense was far worse. Bel was saying 'we're all going to die, the peasants and the prince in one mass grave' was rather disturbing despite how sing-song Bel made the Italian sound. The Varia's Storm Officer then started rocking back and forth as he added verses to his 'song.' Tsuna tried not to listen but he heard 'chop the shark into sushi and soup' and 'boil the froggy into slime.' Bel's behavior was _disturbing_. More so than usual for an assassin nicknamed 'Prince the Ripper' who had been the Varia's Storm Officer since he was eight.

Gokudera then had to wonder aloud what was so terrifying about some retiree; Tsuna knew that was the wrong thing to ask.

His hyper-intuition was all but screaming that the situation was so very wrong and should be avoided if at all possible and if that meant jumping out of a window then he should hop to it. Bel's song gained another verse, this time about Lussuria if the 'slash the fashionista into bloody rags' meant what Tsuna thought it did.

Squalo's atypically quiet reaction to being challenged like that only made the danger sirens sound more loudly in the Neo-Primo's head.

"You'll have a chance to find out. Tyrant's organized a meeting. Sawada, you're to bring the Shimon famiglia and the Heads of the Millefiore to Varia Headquarters in three days time. Irie Shoichi, you and the rest of those that can understand how Boss disappeared and are smart enough to figure out how to bring him back are also to attend. Transportation will be arranged should it be required. Is it required?"

Tsuna, recognizing formality at this point had to speak up. He had yet to see where the Varia were based and none of his famiglia beyond Yamamoto knew where it was at; Yamamoto hadn't shared and Tsuna hadn't asked him to. Yamamoto was the only exception out of his Guardians as he and Squalo would spar with each other and the recruits that could use a blade.

Xanxus hated having to deal with him on the Vongola's territory in the first place, so Tsuna had yet to see the castle the Varia claimed as their own because Xanxus _would_ kill him or at least make his life an utter hell worse than Reborn could. Xanxus had _subordinates_ for all that Reborn dominate even other ex-Acrobaleno with sheer force of personality. Subordinates who were also extremely capable assassins in their own right, given the Varia's stance on Quality over Quantity.

"It would be appreciated, Squalo-san."

"Good. Bel, stop whining. You're both with me. We have other 'guests' to invite." Squalo commanded.

"Yes, sir." Both Bel and Lussuria stated, both abruptly pulling themselves together and with military precision but an assassin's tread, followed silently after the Second Sword Emperor.

Those mental warning sirens blazed even louder.

* * *

><p>Don't worry, you'll see Tsuna again in Chapter 50.<p> 


	41. Chapter 41

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the distracting Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Absolutes<strong>

Xanxus liked a few absolutes, especially if they were concrete physical things; dead or alive, black or white, up or down.

He even liked a few absolutes that were abstract; life or death, infinity or infinitesimal, or other things like that.

There were some things that he knew he would never be capable of thinking as absolutes. Love and hate for example. He loved the Ninth for all that he did for him as a child. He also hated the same man for lying to him and making poor decisions for the Vongola. Half-ass parenting could be forgiven to a degree since despite mostly only seeing Nono in passing or at meals, the man had provided for him; food, shelter and education enough to survive and thrive. It wasn't an absolute forgiveness, nor could it ever be.

It was the same thing for a lot of things. Emotions just didn't lend themselves to absolutes and Xanxus knew due to his upbringing that there were a few things that didn't connect as they should. Intimacy and sex were just two things that didn't connect like that in his head.

Intimacy was just a higher level of trust with some skin thrown in. Being assassins, nudity didn't really mean anything beyond the person was lacking clothing; it was similar to any medical professional's desensitization to flesh. They may not want to see it sometimes but they weren't hot and bothered because someone flashed some skin or stripped while drunk. Compared to someone choosing to walk to the cafe in nothing but a towel and weapons; the former two were juvenile while the latter was actually arousing to practically any and all assassins that witnessed it.

Few assassins of Varia Quality were completely and utterly straight, even if that was their preference; to be otherwise would limit the amount of targets and tools available to kill them. They may not like it but they could deal with it and preform their job should sex actually be required. The Varia were good enough that sex wasn't required to get missions but that didn't mean that they forgot their earlier training and conditioning either. Under Tyr, a few people took advantage of that which Xanxus put a stop to by expanding the mission parameters to kill those fuckers too; that had made him popular enough with his underlings, more so once explained that he was paying them for it too. That Xanxus didn't particularly care who they were fucking outside of missions so long as they got the job done and he never had to hear of any relationship woes made him more so, as they knew if he did he was going to break bones and retire their asses if not execute them straight up. They were professionals, they were Varia; deal with it or die.

Sex was something people did to have kids, to have fun or something to use as a tool for those in the mafia. To Xanxus, sex was something people did whenever or however with whoever they chose; choice was the important part for him. It was one of the leftover issues from his fucked-up childhood when his mother didn't have a choice or didn't have the mental awareness to make it. It was 'an enlightened view' as Father Gregori had said, 'but not one most people had, or one that society cultivated.'

To elaborate, the priest that functioned as the Varia's psychologist, and Xanxus' own sounding board for his own issues had explained. Most people, even those trained in seduction at least connected those two things together; that's why those trained in seduction could do what they had to, which was gather information or kill who they just had sex with since they took advantage of how most people tightly connected the two together. Compared to Xanxus who had taken advantage of an enemy famiglia's seduction specialist to lose his virginity to and then interrogated afterwards... Xanxus truly didn't.

Hell, most of the Varia had similar mental connectivity issues, which made them the best assassins in the business. Successful assassins weren't griefers after all; no need to mourn the kill if you can't even see the target as a person that needed to be mourned for.

Even so, he knew he hated the whole concept of 'Absolute Justice' now more than he ever had.

At first it was amusing in the 'that's extreme for fraud and tax evasion' sense. Then it was numbing realization of the fact that 'Absolute Justice justifies every sick thing you can think of.' After that came disgust as memories of the mermaids he had inadvertently rescued his first time at Sabaody and what people with no laws could do to them or other human beings, aliens or not; deserving scumbags or not.

This genocide the marines were conducting under the guise of 'Absolute Justice' made his hatred surface, thick, hot, and choking in its bitterness; it was something he would feel happy drowning in if he could.

Instead, he was tempering his hatred, cooling it in freezing logic and arctic rationality before shaping it into something useful.

Anger was stupid, Fury was blind and Rage too all-consuming. So Xanxus would turn this hatred into Wrath. Wrath would wait; Wrath could always wait.

**Systematic**

Xanxus had been in Lougetown when the preliminary checks began. As any large ruling body would do they had a census on a regular basis. It was important to figure out taxes and tithes to the Tenryubito and World Government among other ruling needs. He had been keeping up with the information about the purge and tried not to think about what the numbers meant too much.

So the Marines who had incentive to work in the 'don't let there be another Pirate King' went and pulled _all_ the most recent census records. They were aiming for newborns. Then just because of the magic of reproductive science taking months they were aiming for the newborns of the currently expecting mothers too, just to make sure.

In the long term, Xanxus couldn't help but expect South Blue to turn into a hot-bed of intelligent and passionate revolutionaries. Even in the short term it was going to create lots of rage, resentment and loss. A civil war or two might break out eventually.

This system of murder was going to crash but not before all of South Blue thought the World Government to be monsters. Unfortunately, the World Government had excellent spin doctors and were inflaming a lot of fear and hatred for a dead man. That his corpse had disappeared like it had made a lot of people think Roger really was the Devil. Clearly that was going to come back to bite him, since Xanxus knew that his luck would never hold out like that. So he'd have to prepare for all the worst-case scenarios he could think of.

He knew the collective society consciousness was all for predestination and the government was building further on that but that was this world as a whole and not South Blue. South Blue would be bleeding and the scars of such actions would linger for generations.

**People**

Xanxus knew that the average person here was pretty trusting and loving; most criminal elements were chased out to sea. This however didn't make them understanding or tolerant, and it probably made them more intolerant of those that were different. Yeah, he could see how that would occur and explained why piracy was so damn commonplace in this world where going against the laws set by the World Government was a death sentence. Becoming a pirate might be a physical death sentence to be delayed for however long they were lucky but better that than being dead in spirit.

In this sense Rouge was an exception, as was he himself if for different reasons. Rouge was a kind person who thought everyone should have a chance, despite who they are and what they might have been. Xanxus just didn't give a fuck beyond a mere acknowledgment of the weirdness so long as they did their job. It was two very different approaches to tolerance.

Still most people didn't have big ambitions like 'change the world.' Most people wanted to find a job they loved, have a family and die of old age or whatever. In that sense most people were pretty damn alike and there would be a common thread of eventual loss. Friends, family and neighbors alike.

The World Government was making no exceptions. Marine wives, nobility's heirs and peasants alike, if they had an infant or were expecting one, the baby and sometimes the mother were being culled. Obviously, there were protests about this, but none of the organized march type ones as that crap never worked against tyrants and their military; the protests were all on an individual basis, and on an individual basis they were cut down.

So husbands, older siblings, grandparents, friends, neighbors and more were being slaughtered due to their resistance of the World Government's fear. Fear that Roger's child would be Roger reborn. They were also all pretty convinced that Roger would have a son, to a zealous degree but that didn't stop them from killing babies born female either. Still, a baby being Roger reborn?

That line of reasoning wouldn't hold water for a lot of people because while blood mattered but it wasn't everything. A lot of the world was under-educated which suited the World Government just fine; they wanted an unthinking majority. Having them buy into the idea of blood-predestination, making it cultural... Xanxus wasn't going to tolerate such stupidity.

To correct that Xanxus was doing a bit of damage control on every island he visited; planting a few ideas to see if they'd bear fruit. It wasn't Roger's fault that the World Government was killing newborns; why were they fearing a baby anyway? A baby could not even turn to piracy in the first damn place! Even if the kid chose piracy, don't you know there's a chance it wouldn't survive? Never mind that people could never know if the child would follow his father's example since there were other jobs out there to chose from! Even the marines! The whole disappearing corpse thing had to be done by someone with a Devil Fruit, since Roger was dead before he went up in flames!

It was a slow grass-roots sort of campaign, but eventually he knew it would be a wildfire that wouldn't be doused.

**Strong**

People underestimated how strong a person had to be to live in this sort of environment, especially if you were a woman if childbearing age and thus a potential target; in this sense Rouge's history of being single and uninterested in men protected her from a lot of suspicion around the town that some of her friends were suffering from.

Rouge's head was too full of books, business details and adventures for her to be suspect and was far more interested in things other than men and eventual children which she should be interested in; honestly, this world probably needed feminism and proper feminists at that. Using manners that he was raised to have wasn't an insult to women everywhere; it was a way to show appreciation for them and all they did.

Most people didn't know how much work it was taking care of someone so helpless when they were babies and couldn't defend themselves or know who to defend themselves from at personal cost in time and energy; Xanxus did know all that from taking care of his mother from a young age, so he was appropriately courteous for anyone who did the task of nurturing properly. That was probably the only reason Lussuria hadn't been shot more often, beyond the martial artist's ability to dodge. Luss cared and did useful, constructive and soothing things with that drive to nurture.

Despite the Varia being a male-dominated organization, the assassins were very polite to the few women in the ranks; the female was deadlier than the male in a lot of cases and the Varia knew it. If they didn't learn it, then they'd be dead soon enough and so would no longer be a problem. The few women in the organization would make sure of it; terminal stupidity was a legitimate reason to kill your co-workers, especially if you could get away with it like a proper assassin should.

Just because there was a female assassin didn't make her a honey-pot assassin; the best damn sniper the Varia had was ranked right under Colonello in sniping ability and was female. Metronome was just the latest in the line of snipers from World War Two's infamous sniper 'White Death.'

Nor did being female mean they were always used poison to kill either; Bel and Luss could both poison people with ease, while one of the Storm Squad Leaders had literally hung someone with their own insides before; she had even gotten _another_ nickname for it. Admittedly 'Gasping Gallow' suited her better than the previous 'Heart Thief' in any language. The Mexican woman was of Aztec heritage so she knew how to divest a man of his heart in seconds, but 'Heart Thief' was just unsuited on all sorts of levels. Generally because she liked to feed the still beating heart to her victim, in vaguely religious rituals, which made her call-sign 'Miko.' Bel had a crush on her actually; well what amounted to a crush for Bel as Bel's head was all sorts of fucked up.

Rouge still visited town on occasion. Mostly because she had her business in town to attend to, and supplies to buy, but she hadn't been visiting a lot of her village friends because some of them weren't alive to visit. Xanxus felt that it would be exceedingly awkward to stay and grieve with other family and friends when your choices were the root cause for their death. Not that their deaths were her fault, but grief was never sensible and neither was the World Government.

Still, Rouge's conviction held strong, even when the World Government expanded its decision on who to cull. That's when things got nasty.

**Expansion**

As usual, things would always get worse before they got better.

The news and orders broke that first week of January. Xanxus however had known a month or so before hand and was prepared.

Xanxus had periodically been visiting the various marine ships and bases, invisibly and using presence concealment most of the time, to monitor the progress of the mass genocide. He occasionally managed to spare a few families, but never enough. Maybe one in a thousand families at the most; it was at least something. He had to remind himself to pace himself, to not care. It didn't work out so well; a Boss, even the Boss of the Varia had to have compassion.

Xanxus' compassion was a bit backwards as an assassin but that's because this whole genocidal purge was wasteful, a massive drain on resources and utterly stupid. It had no benefit, long or short-term other than assuaging the over-bred leeches' fear and this was something that would bite them in the ass. Xanxus had discovered Rouge's secret in less than a week, for all that it was a matter of luck over monotonous and thorough investigation. Clearly the World Government did not have capable investigators, who could do investigation subtly so they were killing all the probably mothers and children they could.

Worse was the fact that some of the less than upstanding marines who were the cullers themselves or in charge of them did prey on the recently widowed, the grieving mothers and unwed older daughters; a fair few marines on sixteen different islands had wound up as suspiciously mutilated corpses. Xanxus' hand and his self control had slipped; he couldn't abide trash like that living. He really couldn't do more for those unfortunate rape victims than killing their rapists and displaying the bodies prominently like some sort of grotesque offering of apology. He was feeling inspired in displaying them by how sickening that scum was; it helped that the mafia had always been pretty inventive with how they placed and disposed of corpses.

The most conspicuous killing of marines was a group of seven who were murdering the family of all those that would protest, helping themselves to the women and then killing the women afterwards because the family resisted official authority; Xanxus broke into the base they were stationed at, kidnapped them all and painted the walls of a locked office in blood. Then, because he wanted to make a scene, he listed all the names of the lives lost because of the sick trash took in the same blood using a dismembered arm. He then took pictures, used the office machines to make his own little pamphlet and distributed the pamphlets over the past five islands they had been at. Then because he really wanted prove his point, he distributed even more of the pamphlets at thirteen more islands in the general vicinity and several more ships leaving South Blue. Xanxus wanted to be thorough.

The marine killings made the news repeatedly, but the pamphlets explained why those marines and more were hunted, creating at least caution if not outright distrust for the marines and had neighbors watching out for each other. Xanxus was familiar with the Nuremberg defense of 'only following orders,' but while he couldn't gut all of those who followed the World Government's orders, he could get those who went above and beyond that. The civilians really should be happy that they were getting pro bono work out of the Varia's Boss; not that he minded taking out trash like that. He was actually having fun misleading any and all investigators by leaving contradictory clues and evidence.

That no one knew he was there was a bonus as Baterila was playing host to a newly built Marine Base made to organize the genocide; it meant no one could see him and think him suspicious or uncomplying with the World Government's authority which would get people shot. He didn't exist, wasn't in the census data, so could not be visited by suspicious authority figures. Well, Xanxus couldn't as Sansetto already had been. A bit of work with Mist Flames made his unwanted visitors forget that fact, and prompted a job to falsify Sansetto's existence on paper.

Most of his things were on Machina in his room there. As he wasn't using conventional means of traveling -Xanxus didn't mind sailing but it was so slow- so disappearing for a few hours or a few days wasn't worth gossiping about. People who saw Sansetto assumed he was doing business things, which he occasionally did. Rouge assumed he was finding a way to amuse himself or train, which he also did. He set up an alert system so he knew when people were wanting him at his office; it was primitive but it worked well enough.

In January it was revealed that because Roger had visited the area years before, they were expanding their 'search parameters.'

In short, more kids and people were going to die on the World Government's completely stupid order.

There was nothing he could do about it. It galled him. It was completely and utterly wasteful.

It was no wonder why he whole-heartedly hated 'Absolute Justice' now.

* * *

><p>Where Xanxus hates the World Government purges not because they're killing people and kids but because they're being complete and utter idiots about it. Then because that pisses him off, he's killing those taking advantage of the turmoil for their base needs because trash like that needs to be taken out.<p> 


	42. Chapter 42

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the distracting Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Flour<strong>

It began with a not-conversation over breakfast, where Rouge decided that her project of the day was teaching him to cook, or bake bread to be specific.

His experience in cooking was negligible like it was for most men not interested in the subject for its own sake. He could do the instant stuff and a number of simple dishes like put together a breakfast and some pasta dishes but that didn't even make him a decent cook, much less a chef. He might be a picky eater when he could be but for the most part he didn't care so long as it was edible. Well, edible-ish if he was really hungry.

He might not have starved while living with his mother, but he had gone hungry on several occasions; it took two years and the realization that the staff were paid to put up with the occasional unreasonable demand for late night snacks to stop hoarding food, much to the relief of the maids whom he had terrorized as a child. Them leaving a small fruit basket in his room to eat through whenever he wanted later eased a whole lot of friction between him and the Vongola's household staff. He really hadn't noticed how much he missed it until he was head of the Varia, which told him the hoarding habit wasn't so much broken as modified; he then ordered up the damn fruit basket anyway and housekeeping had kept the one in his office fully stocked ever since.

He wasn't much for hoarding while on a mission, and travel in his home dimension didn't take enough time for it to happen. His journey to East Blue had him too keyed up to hoard anything but the trip back to South Blue found a variety of citrus fruits making themselves at home in his pockets. He did erase the evidence of his theft by eating them later and disposing the inedible bits; usually late at night when he was making notes, writing down thoughts, records of his activity in East Blue, noting future lines of inquiry and what he'd have to research as time and circumstances allowed.

There were many things to investigate in this dimension, some of which he could actually follow up on. Others would take an expertise that he didn't have and was unlikely to gain here, so it would have to be delegated if possible or left alone despite his curiosity.

The time difference between dimensions allowed for what amounted to an end-goal to set a 'loop' up, which would result in Tyrant's presence and help in setting up Sansetto's company. His part in that was half-way done; he'd have to send the orders for that eventually but at least he knew what orders to send. He just hadn't found the messenger yet. He probably wouldn't for a while, but how long that while was... that was the question. Xanxus knew he wasn't patient but he'd have to be. Until that time arrived, he could protect and mooch off of Rouge.

Rouge's own fruit bowl kept that minor-hoarding tendency at bay in her home. She had decided since he had no issue eating her fruit and food, she obviously felt he should learn to make his own food. Rouge then decided to remedy what she termed a 'situation.'

When Rouge brought out ingredients Xanxus knew the attempt to make bread was not going to end well. She brought out flour and Xanxus' mind went to flour bombs. Other ingredients followed a similar mental trend in terms of possible lethality, potential health hazards and contamination protocols, which was a lot when you knew about botulism poisoning and more. Reading Varia reports on how people were assassinated and things were passed off as accidents or natural deaths was a thorough education in odd ways.

Somehow despite flour getting everywhere, and the dough being a bit overworked, the bread turned out well enough. There was certainly nothing wrong with the taste, even after it cooled.

Thus Rouge decided to continue his culinary education.

It probably would have gone better had she not been expecting. Some smells sent her running to vomit, others made her merely queasy. Xanxus was not spared of nauseous feelings just by being male either; he was now a believer in all the odd things he had heard pregnant women had ever ate because he'd seen most of them eaten and had somehow been conned into making a few of them for her to try.

Rouge learned to not talk about her cravings while teaching and Xanxus learned which smells set Rouge off. After the first time something burnt, he also learned to move whatever was cooking off the heat if he got distracted from tending it.

**Recipe**

The few more intricate dishes he knew how to make were generally pasta-based. He knew a few other more complex meals from different nationalities because the Varia was a multi-national organization and damn proud of it.

Some cooking things you do pick up from watching enough times. Other dishes were good enough that he wanted to know how to do it himself if he had to, because if there was a choice between making it himself and never getting to eat it again he was damn well going to make it. The Varia's cooks and chefs were used to curious assassins wanting to know how to make that dish or being taught how to make some strange regional fare that they wanted to have again without the absurd travel time, even if Bel was perfectly happy to go all the way to Japan for sushi. It still amused Xanxus that Bel had been visiting Namimori more than just annually since shortly after he got put on ice yet had never once run into the damned Neo-Primo back when the brat was just an even more pathetic child.

The fact that he was Head of the Varia was irrelevant in culinary matters; he was just another assassin wanting good food. The entire Varia was strangely cat-like in that aspect; the only time Mammon had ever accepted credit was from a chef who requested someone kill his traitorous apprentice who was going to sell his secret recipes. The chef had simply given the Varia a tab to eat through, with monthly limits so that they didn't eat the restaurant out of business until he had completely paid off the cost of the assassination with really excellent food. It was still heavily frequented even after that and the assassins were all perfectly happy to toss money into the chef's business and pockets.

The whole cliche about the mafia having some of the best restaurants around was totally true. People would be wary about the business being owned by mafia if the food wasn't good enough to make them forget about their silly civilian sensibilities.

**Pasta**

While he lacked some of the equipment for a few of the more intricate pieces of pasta, some things were easy enough to make using his hands and a knife alone. Linguini were as basic as you got.

Due to South Blue's climate, food was plentiful and cheap, especially in areas closer to the Calm Belt like Baterila where it stayed balmy and breezy year-round. A number of islands had excellent soil, so gardening happened on every inhabited island and it was nearly year-round. While he had a bit of an issue finding appropriate ingredients at first, he had learned to shop around while 'jumping' between islands in disguise as he explored South Blue. At first he had only been doing so to for his own needs, information with the occasional murder. Then Rouge started those cooking lessons, so when Xanxus obtained off-island ingredients for what he wanted to make, Rouge noticed.

It meant that Rouge occasionally sent him shopping for her when Baterila lacked what she wanted; sometimes it was ingredients for the cooking lessons and sometimes it was due to a craving. She pointedly didn't ask how he managed it, just made use of the skill. She generally at least gave him enough notice about things like that so he could arrange it into his travel plans and didn't complain if it took him the half the week or more to get around to it.

Still, this didn't mean that making a decent pasta dish was easy. Making the pasta itself was the easy part. The sauce or stuffing -depending on the dish- was far more difficult.

Finding tomatoes was far more challenging that it should have been; apparently, they weren't that popular to grow compared to other crops. It was easy enough to guess why too; they were fragile, tasted best when garden grown and nutritionally were lacking in vitamin C and a number of other important maritime nutrients in comparison to oranges or lemons or whatever. So it wasn't popular to ship them, so farmers didn't grow them. A lack of mass industrialization in this dimension prevented truly efficient refrigeration to keep products frozen or cool, on a larger industrial scale which made transportation of some things very difficult because they'd rot. Sailing meant eating a lot of food preserved in jars with the occasional fresh supplements bought locally or fished out. Ingredients that had a short shelf-life bar things like potatoes or rice.

That in Xanxus' mind made most sailors turn more than a little crazy; fresh food was best and the way to keep things fresh was to keep it cool or frozen.

People occasionally did grow tomatoes though, which meant there were a handful of individuals he had to buy tomatoes from since he wanted them. Xanxus still hated speaking to people though; he didn't really care who they had lost or the latest local scandal but he listened nonetheless because not listening would mean no tomatoes in the future.

Then after finding tomatoes he had to make tomato sauce which involved a lot of time over low heat because of how much water was in tomatoes. Then he had to spice it, which took time and lots of tasting to find the right balance of condiments. It wasn't hard since he vaguely knew how to do it and what it tasted like, but he knew there was a lot of difference between the sauces for the various dishes.

Sauce for pizza and sauce for pasta were two very different sauces. More complex was how the sauces for various pasta dishes varied ever so slightly depending on how it was cooked and the stuffing inside, if there even was a sauce since _proper_ stuffed pasta only had olive oil and possibly grated cheese for a garnish. They all shared the same base but the little differences in spices based on the dish made the difference between good, excellent and heavenly.

Rouge had let him bustle around in the kitchen and helped him work out the kinks in how to cut down the sauce's acidity without ruining the flavor or changing the consistency. Making things purely from the raw ingredients was annoying, but also enjoyable in its own way.

It helped keep his mind off of other things and Rouge enjoyed it too.

**Crepes**

Normally when the upper tier of the Varia was deployed together, Lussuria took over cooking duties. Luss was honestly the most well-rounded in the culinary arts out of all the Officers. He knew how to prepare most of the dishes they liked, no matter the nationality and was good at them.

Luss might dress out of punk fashion but the man was an okama at heart, for all his creepiness and flamboyance. He wouldn't ask to be called 'Luss-nee' otherwise; giving a man the same suffix in Japanese that you'd give an older sister was more proof that Lussuria was probably the craziest Officer the Varia had, even if the whole necrophilia issue and lots of other evidence was ignored. That he was the best socially adjusted out of the Varia's Officers by a mile was beside the point; Suns and Rains tended to be better socially anyways.

Mammon's cooking skills were abysmal and the one time Mammon had been paid to cook by Bel... it came alive. It was then quickly shot with Wrath Flames, obliterated with part of the floor and never mentioned again by mutual agreement of all who witnessed it. Levi had a life-long bachelor's basic skills but he could follow a recipe should he have to, while Bel was a surprise as he was actually good at baking pastries and sweets for all that he did it maybe twice a year. Squalo cooked vegetarian, with the exception of sushi which he used long surgical gloves for; not because the shark was a vegetarian but because handling most raw meat with his prosthetic left hand was a health hazard in the making.

The fake hand could be removed to clean it but it was one of those things Squalo hated doing, especially a full break down to clean it; the hand rarely needed it because Squalo was exceptional enough with a blade to control how the blood sprayed and it didn't rust so it was fine to be regularly exposed to water or soap. A full break down required dissembling the prosthetic hand entirely, cleaning and sterilizing all the parts and then reassembling it; the shark hated doing that because the prosthetic hand always felt strange and awkward for a week or so afterwards. The fake hand was entirely accurate and fully articulate, with a couple of surprises built in, so it was a lot of parts that had to be put back together.

Scrambling eggs was easy enough to do for breakfast, but despite being the quickest option Rouge didn't make them at all. Omelets were also off the menu; the smell of any egg-based dish alone sent her stomach reeling.

So Xanxus went against his bachelor instincts and made a more complex dish, notably crepes. He then made a couple of choices for fillings. He ate a few of them, to show how you were supposed to fix and eat them. The first bite tasted enough like home that he savored it for all that he knew that the crepes were a little off how they should have been.

Rouge feel in love with them at first bite anyway, then gorged on the rest of those he had made. She quickly weaseled the recipe out of him and the next morning she had made a pile of them before eating them all with only a little blubbering about them being so good that she couldn't stop herself from eating them all.

Clearly he'd have to go 'shopping' again, if only to keep the fruit bowl full; clearly he was not going to be able to get crepes all that often even if he made them.

**Inquisitive**

Naturally, the Clydes did eventually notice his abrupt reduction in food mooching. While the company was owned by Sansetto, they knew that Xanxus was Sansetto.

A change in hair color and disposition made Sansetto a disturbingly good disguise. Unfortunately he couldn't make Sansetto a recluse or ditch the cover entirely so he had to alter a few things about Sansetto so Xanxus could tolerate being Sansetto every other day and not kill him off out of frustration; thankfully this could be blamed on the purges currently going on in South Blue. They were effecting everyone.

The Clydes also knew that Xanxus was an assassin.

Naturally, it was Melrose who slipped the question so casually into his chatter that Xanxus thought he had misheard the young girly-looking boy. He hadn't but still... clever little shit. Holding a poker face when you needed to was important but if you think you didn't have to, a number of things were practically reflex. In that sort of situation, even a non-reaction was telling.

Xanxus was very strongly reminded of Basil, the new head of CEDEF; Basil might be a pretty face, but he had a brain, was willing to use it and possessed a strong ruthless streak he kept neatly buried under his harmless appearance.

Xanxus avoided questions about the string of murders plaguing the marines by ignoring them. Sansetto didn't manage to avoid the questions when Melrose managed to divine the fact that he was staying with someone who was teaching him how to cook; apparently the scent of food was worse for lingering than the scent of blood and gunpowder or something.

Xanxus then ignored any questions after that, and left for two days. While Sansetto was elsewhere, Xanxus came back hearing rumors about Sansetto's lady-love and how he was courting her.

Sansetto gave Melrose a payraise upon returning. Cheeky brat.

* * *

><p>You can look at this chapter as shameless fluff in response to the gloom and doom of the last chapter or as Xanxus' subconscious yearning for home to the point he's willing to cook and make extra effort to do gain the ingredients.<p> 


	43. Chapter 43

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the enchanting Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Cipher<strong>

While Rouge kept regular hours, Xanxus by dint of being Sansetto and 'whatever new title the papers had come up with for the perpetrators of all the marine killings' kept far more irregular hours. If he wasn't sleeping, he was busy doing something. Training, company work, assassin work and resistance work. The little free time he made -occasionally giving up training for- was spent honing his cooking skills and decompressing from stress. The last was fucking important since he didn't want to burn out.

Bodyguarding Rouge while she was in town did keep him busy, if bored so light meditation kept him focused; Sansetto occasionally did paperwork and business deals with her through the creepy snails, not that she knew that Sansetto was also staying in her guest room. Setting up the company and making it profitable by January was enough work for a team of people, much less doing it on his own. He had the Clydes and Squalette but he had to teach them how to do their jobs first and then make sure they were doing it competently before he could add on extra duties. His other employees were just happy to have work.

It would only become a worse drain on his time when he planned to expand it further. Beyond just weapons; he had the smiths, mechanists and out of luck engineers so he could make something of a technological revolution by just getting them together, speaking and working with each-other without worrying where their next meal was coming from. Efficient refrigeration would be ideal, especially if they patented it.

Finding ways to record and play music, radio and the like would be easy enough to produce on a small scale before a factory could be made and sales really rocketed. Den den mushi were handy for phones, office needs and cameras but recording images and sounds was something that most didn't bother with; Xanxus had discovered that they had movies and movie-stars here but no easy way to privately view them at home which was something of a shame; it was good for him since no one had bothered to make it possible before so it was an area to make lots of profit in, so long as the government didn't confiscate it.

While he was pretty sure that there could be den-den mushi modifications to allow that, there were some benefits that having an actual radio and radio transmission around; data about the sea and such, which might lead to weather forecasting or make getting scientific data about the sea easier. The snails had to eat while batteries could last years. The lack of easy recording possibilities made bypassing security far too easy, which was a benefit so he'd have to try to keep by preventing the creation of a purely technological cameras.

It was much harder to fool a purely technological camera compared to a den den mushi with Mist Flames, especially if people knew what to look for.

Spying on the marines, killing corrupt marines, organizing ways past blockades to sneak precious few families through was enough work for several more teams of people; he found ways to reduce a lot of the first two by setting up a Mist signal system on the officers and random underlings. It would signal him about new orders and the latest searches. Then he could then coordinate with the locals knowing the newest information about where ships were stationed and more.

One of the benefits to all the sneaking and killing he did was being able to steal plenty of the den-den mushi to both eavesdrop on conversations and those to prevent it. Wearing a multitude of faces, Xanxus organized a network of resistance that was slowly reaching a level of competence to be proud of. At least a lot of on-the-ground spying and a lot of logistics could be handed off, which did give him extra hours of sleep, as he knew the jobs of moving people without notice would be done by vaguely competent people with the appropriate mindset. Some of them just needed a direction, an idea and were all too willing to stick their necks out to prevent unjust genocide.

Xanxus thought them naive and too damn idealistic but a lot of that shine quickly wore off into usefulness. A little teaching here and there, a few points to remember and they were much better, rapidly approaching competence if not proficiency.

That made his little network of resistance halfway competent unlike the Cipher Pol members Xanxus had already killed who were all sorts of incompetent in every possible way. Arranging accidents for trained spies and assassins was always tricky, but it was easily doable for the lower numbered Cipher Pol agents who were so bad they were insulting. Of course, before he killed them, he had used Mist Flames and pulled all the information he wanted and needed out of their heads, which included the training they received.

Xanxus' honest opinion on it was that they were shit. He wasn't sure why he expected better; the few government agents and spies that occasionally dipped into the realm of the mafia were easy to pick and take out in his own dimension. Those were at least somewhat-properly trained people who could occasionally be made into useful dupes. These chumps?

They were such an insult to being assassins and killers that even the lowest rookie hitman would be profoundly insulted. Most of their training was physical but the even more essential mental training and lots of learning how to think tactically or move in a variety of social circles was missing. Their emotional states were suppressed under heavy indoctrination and brainwashing under the guise of making them 'emotionless' living weapons.

Any government feared having too competent assassins, so they intentionally left gaps in the training and conditioning. Mostly so the government could break and toss them at their leisure. The World Government just left bigger holes than most, so large there was almost more hole than any actual training. If they succeeded in their spying jobs it was a fucking miracle; Xanxus didn't see how such things would work consistently. At best, a few Rains or Suns might keep their social skills somewhat intact but everyone else was fucked, except for the most intelligent who would learn to fake social competence. Those notably weren't crawling around in South Blue being fucking obvious about their agent status.

Xanxus looked at the dead bodies of the Cipher Pol agents. How to arrange them best? Crucification was a classic, but since the Cipher Pol agents were based into numerical cells... shaping them into a six while hanging from the base's walls. That would do nicely.

**Hold**

Occasionally however, Xanxus took a break and forced himself to catch up on sleep. Rushing benefited no one, so it was better to put things on hold.

Still, living with a woman who was expecting occasionally meant he'd catch her crying. Not for her own choices but out of hormones, sympathy, guilt or whatever.

On those rare occasions where it was a combination of it all, Xanxus went with his instincts. Despite how Lussuria would coo, Xanxus would hold her in his arms and flare his Sky Flames to life. Radiating Sky Flames like that was harder than it looked, even if he did take advantage and transfer some of his own flames over to boost her reserves.

Xanxus spent a lot of time teetering on the edge of flame exhaustion because that was a totally inefficient way to transfer flames, but it needed to be done if he wanted his charge to survive. Still, he held off on going over the edge; sleeping for a week sounded nice, but wasn't practical.

As it stood, he had to admire Rouge; she could be a little silly, surprisingly gluttonous but even if she was grieving over a recently lost friend she was still strongly resolved to protect her child at any cost to herself.

Flame exhaustion was bad enough, but once you exhausted all your inner fire, all that you had left to burn was the spark in your soul as the body failed to keep itself alive; he wasn't going to let his charge kill herself like that when he could prevent it.

**Walk-ins**

Of course as they lived together in a small little cottage, they managed to see a lot of each other even if Xanxus was as busy as he'd ever been and had the most irregular hours ever.

She had seen more of him than he had of her, since Rouge was a civilian and Xanxus was civilized enough to not use the bathroom while she was bathing or cleaning up from morning sickness. The latter had sent her running for the toilet a few times despite the fact that he was occupying the bathroom. She usually noticed after the heaving was done and got out; civilian sensibilities were very strange for assassins to witness as things like self-consciousness and modesty were trained out of them early, so Xanxus didn't particularly care if she saw everything.

It wasn't like he had anything to be shy about and the worst of his scars were hidden. About the only thing he did care about would be if she saw him washing away the blood, but that didn't have anything to do with modesty.

Xanxus as an assassin preferred to keep his kills clean. Bullets to the head at a distance kept the splatter well away. Wrath Flames vaporized whatever they hit. After that, using 'accidents' was what he preferred, then poison, so a lot of the messy kills he was performing were not his usual style but he could make it work as despite not doing them himself before he'd seen a lot of his more... artistic... underlings at work enough times to know what to expect. Still, there was a reason that like spying, assassination was referred to as 'wet-works.'

Blood got everywhere. It could be worse than sand at times.

One of the unsaid benefits of flame-proofing clothing was that it made cleaning out the extra blood easy as it didn't stick. Unfortunately, that didn't mean blood couldn't seep through it, which meant it needed at least to be rinsed off the skin underneath and the clothing washed anyway. Dips in the ocean got rid of the worst of what would cake on and it would still need washing after that. A few times he had used an ornamental pond, or a fountain in the town square as necessary. His boots hated him for the abuse but finding replacements for them would be tricky as hell as nobody wore anything quite like them that he had seen so far. He'd probably have to commission some locally and then modify them; flame-proof them too.

Xanxus hated laundry, but hated being covered in dried blood like that even more. Normally he used Sansetto's bathroom; the shower there ran hot and hard which made it perfect to get all the blood off in, even if he didn't even bother stripping off more than his boots before entering. Unfortunately, he knew he was sometimes too close to exhaustion to 'jump' to Machina, which was a little out of the way compared to Baterila. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, so he generally had a system set up to wash in Rouge's bathroom without notice for the most part. With Rouge walking in at any moment to worship the toilet, walk-ins were expected to happen.

Rouge's bathroom was Asian in style. The toilet had its own little closet; the closet was next to the shelves holding towels and toiletries next to the sink. There was a depressed area to rinse off in, complete with a drain in the floor. Rouge also had this wonderful metal, clawfoot tub to bathe in that was placed in the same section of the bathroom. He was kind of in love with it.

Xanxus like a lot of the Varia found that they liked a number of Asian influences in their hygiene; a hot bath was wonderful for relaxing in but if you weren't clean before that you were just stewing in your own muck. Being assassins their muck could be other people's parts, blood and gods-knew-what else which made it not something you wanted to sit in for a second longer than you had to.

Xanxus being an assassin who didn't really care about how he looked so much as how he was perceived, one day forgot to close the curtain all the way as he was lathering up the soap and washing dried blood away. How the fuck did blood get in his hair? He'd been so busy wrestling with the shoulder-length mess that he hadn't realized Rouge was there until she gasped and he automatically scanned for the threat.

Rouge's concern was less expected but nice. After he had informed her that none of it was his, she left the bathroom, very shaken and pale.

**Imperial**

No one could accuse Rouge of being stupid. Too trusting, gullible to a degree but not a fool.

Xanxus padded out of the bathroom, clean, wearing just the tailored slacks. No shirt, no socks, but to a tea set that was out on her table. Rouge had a plate of crepes that she was steadily plowing through too. Somehow they had become her go-to food for eating, as hormones made keeping most food down difficult recently. Slowing her pregnancy down like that meant extending the misery of morning sickness once that started, from what he could tell. It would probably pass, but in the meantime it was just troubling, especially if anyone ever noticed. Stomach bugs only lasted so long and the Marines were always suspicious. Incompetent to the extreme but an idiot only had to get lucky or suspicious once...

The expecting mother gestured for him to have a cup of tea as her hands were full, as she eyed him coolly with an assessing gaze. Part of that was looking at some of the minor scars from the time he spent frozen, something she hadn't really seen often due to his preferred method of dress involving long sleeves and the rest were under an illusion. The occasional time she ran for the toilet she wasn't paying attention to him and when she left after heaving up whatever she ate, she kept her back to him as she inched her way out the bathroom.

She couldn't see all of the scars due to the illusion covering the worst of them, but those that could be seen were telling enough; she didn't know that he had actually had a few skin graphs of his own skin done so he could have full mobility without tearing any scar tissue. A fair few of those areas were under his slacks, since a lot of skin was damaged even there and not in the peppered way that his torso, neck and arms were covered in, which was bad enough. His thighs, which were striped like a tiger under the illusion for example; He had several thick bands of scar tissue winding their way up his legs. A few of the skin graphs he had were over his hamstrings and knees so he could properly stretch the muscles, ligaments and tendons without tearing his skin open.

His masculine equipment still worked and had only the slightest of scarring from his time spent frozen, which put it ahead of lots of other parts; he actually had muscle damage and tons of scar tissue from those years. It was especially bad on and around the inside of his bad eye that made him hate daylight and excessively bright light in general since it gave him a fucking headache. Two of his fingers liked to lock up on his hands if they got cold and he felt the cold far more acutely now; it made his scars and some of his more damaged joints ache despite the illusion. Two ligaments in his shoulder liked to lock up, which limited his range of motion. He generally cheated a little and used a control exercise for his flames to keep warm enough to stay limber, but for the rest there was only salvation in illusions.

Lussuria had fixed a lot of his immediate damage from his years spent frozen, but some things a person just had to live with or work around. Even with Lussuria's skill, he still ended up with plenty of scar tissue and other issues that couldn't be fixed surgically. The main point of the illusion he normally kept anchored on himself was allow his bad eye to be able to move and see properly; there were six muscles that rotated the eye and one to lift the eye-lid. All of them were freezer-burnt to some degree. The rest of the anchored illusion was for comfort, utility and vanity; not entirely his own vanity but the vanity required by his position. Some scars were allowed and even expected in the mafia. The extensive damage that he gained from his icy imprisonment wasn't; so the extensive damage was kept hidden and secret under an illusion of health and strength.

As embarrassing as it was, Xanxus was thankful it was Lussuria who was in charge of making sure that he was fully functional should he ever decide to have heirs to the legacy of strength he had carved out in sweat and blood. Because as bad as Lussuria was being a necrophilic homosexual, Luss wasn't Levi; Levi had a frenum ladder and like most of the Varia, Xanxus repressed the knowledge of Levi's extensive piercings whenever possible. Levi couldn't hold his liquor and when he was drunk he tended to strip. At least Xanxus knew he wasn't Lussuria's type.

Xanxus found it unlikely that he would ever have children even before he was informed of that he still could. The likelihood of doing so was exceedingly low. He was known as Timoteo's only surviving son but he was also very well known as the most dangerous one. Then there was the fact he was known for being all kinds of crazy, temperamental and homicidal; few fathers wanted their daughters to socialize with him, much less consider him for marriage. Those that would anyway were gold-diggers or suicidal idiots. That he was thought to be illegitimate and so wouldn't inherit anything like the Vongola because of it meant those that tried anyway were too stupid to live.

He was even less inclined to attempt to find a spouse due to the fact his head didn't connect love, sex and intimacy together like people should; the significant other would also have to survive -probably kill- Levi who was all kinds of obsessed with his Boss. Worse would be the fact that his eventual wife and possible kids would have to learn that Nono was not their grandfather; so dreams of inheriting the Vongola would remain just that. Knowing that your line was illegitimate was bad enough but could be tolerated so long as the bastard married well-enough. An adopted line though was damning for those sort of ideas and dreams as Xanxus knew from personal experience.

Rouge didn't know all that, since she knew next to nothing about his past, but her eyes were seeing more than just reflected light. Despite the humble surroundings, Rouge's bearing was fit for a Queen. Her resolution brought weight to the situation and she wore it well; it made the little wooden chair she was sitting in appear a throne and her normal dress turn into royal raiment. He altered his own body language to formal as well.

"So those skills that you mentioned that weren't exactly marketable on Baterila... finding that line of work in this peaceful kingdom would be difficult. I suppose that you're the one the papers are having fits over?"

Xanxus pointedly did not answer verbally; he just lifted his eyebrows in a 'so what?' gesture, with a slight frown of impatience. He was curious to know what she'd do; she could throw him out or keep him as a guest but she could never claim ignorance to what he did, had done and would do.

"I can't claim to know much about the whole business, but I want you to keep doing it." She ordered.

Xanxus felt a flicker of curiosity.

"They're too invested too stop, even if their fears are ended. A lot of the marines are just following orders from the Tenryubito but that doesn't make their actions excusable. So those that are taking advantage of the situation like those men... no, those beasts have... Kill them. Make it painful. Make a statement. Make them fear even thinking about doing such actions. Make them regret ever enlisting. Take them out of this world and make them fear to ever come back." The Queen, no _Empress_ commanded.

"That's what you want me to do?"

"Yes, exactly that." She smiled, a smile full of bright loathing and eyes showing dark ruthlessness. "After all, I can't stop you from doing as you wish, but please take my opinions into consideration."

**Reasons**

Rouge's 'orders' were... unexpected, to say the least but that was why he actually respected her.

Oh, she didn't know how to fight all that well, wasn't the best physically and didn't have the genius intellect that Xanxus appreciated others could have, even if they were pathetic in everything else.

Instead she had a resolve that would bend nations and could make the world quake at her feet due to her actions or inactions. South Blue's seas were full of bloodshed that her actions -her choice to have a sexual relationship with Roger- caused and she was living with that fact. She wasn't hiding or shying away from the fact that she had indirectly killed thousands upon thousands and she wasn't excusing it either.

While he wasn't sure how many the Pirate King had killed over his career as a pirate, he was pretty certain Rouge had surpassed that number with indirect ease in the past few months. It just proved how much she valued her child and what she was willing to sacrifice for her goals. It turned out to be anything and everything. Hell, she had indirectly killed three of her friends on Baterila already which was very impressive since as a civilian she really should be a wreck except for that resolve...

This might have been the real reason Roger had never taken Rouge out to sea; Roger might have been the Pirate King, but even Kings bowed to an Empress.

Roger might have conquered the Grand Line twice; once had cemented his place in legends and twice was because he fucking could, but Rouge had the resolve and ruthlessness to conquer the world and find the ruling of such satisfying.

Beyond that, 'Search and Destroy' was a course of action that he considered justified concerning such trash.

* * *

><p>Xanxus' scars are extensive for all that we don't really know them beyond waist-level. See HKR Chapter 134's title page. If he didn't have medical issues from his time on ice... that would be a damn miracle or a really detailed illusion.<p>

As for Rouge, Rouge scares me now. How about you? [I'm scared. She would have made an awesome captain.] Says Umei.


	44. Chapter 44

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the reknowned Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Adjust<strong>

Xanxus could tell that Rouge found the world a little surreal for a few days, but unlike Sawada Nana, she wasn't content to live in fantasy where everything was happy and she was happy too. Again, the psych report was nightmare fuel. In fact, it still was nightmare fuel and being a universe away from any issues it might cause did not help.

Rouge on the other hand was a ruthless realist.

She was also bored and frustrated and feeling powerless in a general sense; she had a subtle sense of feminine power in thwarting the World Government's aims day after day but she couldn't do anymore than frit away the days doing routine things, as acting otherwise would risk her cover.

It was the knowledge, first-hand and made real that she was adjusting to. Prior to seeing him wash away the blood it wasn't reality. Not anything concrete and solid like reality.

Now though, she knew and the knowing made the nagging opportunity to do more -if through him- very tempting.

Xanxus spent part of that first day in his room, catching up on sleep. The second day, Rouge had her office-work to do, so he spent that time meditating until she picked up more groceries and stiffened her spine slightly when a group of marines surrounded a nearby business, catching their attention. Once Rouge was home and settling in, Xanxus trained.

A lot of it was mental training, training with Dying Will Flames for precision and dexterity using his least favorite exercise; filling a hand with Sky Flames was easy but lighting individual facets of flames on fingertips and shuffling them was an exercise that often ended in frustration. He still wasn't as fast as he wanted with that particular self-devised exercise. The fact that he could hold all the different facets -Storm, Lightning, Rain, Mist, Cloud, Sun and Sky- on each fingertip and flicker between which Flame he was using on which finger was very impressive but not enough. It took too much time to switch them as he wished; when he had first made this exercise before he was even frozen, he had envisioned only a slight flicker when he switched flames on his fingertips. He could do that with one hand and five flames easy enough, but he had trouble going beyond seven fingers and flames at once; it wasn't a true 'Festival of Flames' yet until he could use all ten fingers and use all the configurations possible with ease.

When he got too frustrated at repetitively failing his own training exercise he turned to physical exercise as he let his mind wander, trying to figure out how haki worked, and how to use it himself. That he didn't lift the knowledge off of Garp or Roger or the audience of the execution was more proof in how Garp-exposure was bad for the brain. Until he either saw it in action himself and reverse-engineer it or stole the knowledge, he was stuck. It was a very annoying state of affairs; he didn't know how haki worked, so he couldn't hide Rouge from being noticed by it. Presence Concealment allowed him to hide, but to master that skill took years for most people and her resolve wouldn't allow it in the first place. Presence Concealment and the technique she was using to protect her unborn child were not conductive to each other.

The third day, Xanxus woke up to a mental alarm and picked up a length of wire and a knife. After he killed that government official -it actually was a local Government official this time and thus an 'accident' to be discovered later- he took a shower, became Sansetto and caught up on work. Paperwork was easy enough, but there was more involved in his fledgling company than just that; people had to be taken care of too. Mooching from the Clydes set them well enough at ease, which meant he then spent time in the forges supervising or discussing projects and ideas with his other employees.

Somehow they had heard about Sansai the gunsmith and asked Sansetto about him, since Sansetto sold Sansai's work; Xanxus made Sansai a wandering, reclusive smith who liked his independence. He ignored the fact that Sansetto's 'friend' Sansai was clearly a Cloud and that his two alternate identities had the usual relationship between Suns and Clouds; in that the Sun aggravated and annoyed the Cloud. Sansetto's chattiness quickly nicknamed Sansai the gunsmith, 'Sangai' meaning 'disaster.' Sansai's name was pronounced 'three calamities' but calling a 'friend' by the name of 'disaster' was distinctly Sansetto.

He mulled over that through dinner, after which he returned to Sansetto's rooms, opened the weapon chest and pulled out a notebook. It was functioning as an overly glorified to-do list. He'd have to muddle minds about Sansetto and Sansai visiting together at least once but twice was at least preferable. Looking through it, there was still a few details nagging but he'd need Rouge's cooperation to follow through with some of them. He spent the night as Sansetto and left the island of Machina after breakfast.

The fourth day surprised him, when Rouge caught him taking an orange from her fruit bowl before lunch.

"Tell me how I can help."

**Specific**

"With what?" Xanxus asked. He knew she had been thinking, but he didn't know about what direction her thoughts were going in.

"So, you're willing to tell me just like that?"

Rouge looked surprised. Xanxus again, thought this world needed feminism; him agreeing to off-load work like that shouldn't be so surprising. He enjoyed delegating things, not that Rouge knew that as she had never seen him at work or running a business or any number of details he took care of out of sight.

She knew he was flying solo, despite what the papers said about the teams committing various murders of the marines. So far, he had seventeen 'signatures' complete with evidence indicating a variety of people and body-types; Mist Flames were wonderful for frame jobs, as was the ability to loot unseen since it made getting shoes of all types easy. Bloody footprints were the easiest evidence to fake even if he had to clean the shoes and his boots later, but angles of the kill had to be considered too. Most people in this world were around normal height and proportioned similarly so at least that worked out for him.

"Not everything, but tell me what you suspect." He began.

"First, you're killing more than just corrupt marines and government agents and using that mess to hide other deaths. Second, you have a way or methods to find your targets which you're going to keep secret. Third, you have another place to stay, or at least clean up in. Fourth, you may be arranging the smuggling of people who the marines want to kill out of South Blue."

"And what do you know?"

"I know that you're a killer, one who enjoys his food and his work, but not the mess. You like to keep things clean, efficient and organized. You have a way to travel some distances without a ship, and are willing to do so should the pay-off for doing so interest you."

"Good. You know how to think." Xanxus stated. Finding someone who could think was a good thing; some people had to be trained how to think and then you'd never get an original thought in their heads ever again. "You want something to do? You're getting coordination of the various resistance groups, marine movements, local ground agents and then you can help me with this one nagging detail."

"Coordination, from here? That's... going to be difficult, especially since there's a new Marine Base in town. Then there's the scope of the project and while I do that for business this is several layers more difficult..."

"Yes, and that eyesore is easily by-passed. I'll explain more in a bit."

"Okay, so what's the detail then?"

"How did the Cipher Pol agent who turned up the lead find out 'Roger was acting like a happy father' when Cipher Pol agents have training to suppress all emotions, which prevents them from noticing subtle nuances like that?"

**Perplexing**

"Wait, what? Explain."

"First, can you give me a timeline of when you noticed you were expecting, the date of conception as accurate as you can figure, and when Roger went off to turn himself into the Marines."

Rouge, at least understood and complied with his demands, and Xanxus turned the new data over in his head. Then she came to the same conclusion he did.

"You think he told someone."

"I know he told Garp that his child would soon be born in this world."

Rouge paled at that, mostly because Xanxus was pretty sure that she felt her house guest wasn't supposed to know that. "Garp was the only one we agreed to tell. Rayleigh knew we were together... but... it was agreed that our child would be raised by Garp should we both be dead. Garp's a good, honorable man. Strong too. A little crazy, but some of that's needed to keep up with Roger. Telling someone else though? Roger was reckless but not careless."

"I found out that detail by looking through the paperwork," Xanxus said. That was a minor lie on his part. "Cipher Pol took notice of the rumors of Roger's child in August, sorting through the gossip to find the source until they found it in this small bar in a place called Bridgetower. They then interrogated the barman, the regulars, killed all the villagers and torched the town under a quarantine order due to-"

"The redscale fever outbreak." Rouge muttered darkly, recognizing that the papers lied to her. Xanxus had found that more than a few people knew the papers liked to lie but they didn't have the time, resources, ability to gain the information to determine what was the truth. It didn't help that the paper favored misleading half-truths over outright lies either.

"I heard rumors about the possibility of Roger's child back in July." Xanxus informed her.

Eyes wide, Rouge uttered, "Oh, my."

**Probabilities**

"So there's a few options that could have happen here. You've known Roger for longer than I did so tell me your suspicions first."

"Ah, let me think. Damn it Roger!" Rouge, took deep breaths as she ordered her thoughts. "First is that Roger told someone he thought he could trust, other than Garp, and they spread the information. Second is that they were overheard. It happens in bars all the time and Roger wasn't exactly quiet or inconspicuous man. Third is that he contacted Rayleigh or someone anyway and it was picked up then by some fool with a black den den mushi. Fourth is that he got stupid drunk and spread it around that way like a fool and last is that someone recognized the father jitters or something."

"That's more of less what I figure in order of possibility, except the whole father jitters or getting stupid drunk. I'm more than certain that Roger could hold his drink and keep a secret due to his career in piracy. He hid he was sick too, well enough that it's never gotten a mention. As for someone recognizing the father jitters, that's even less likely."

"How do you figure that?"

"It's a guy thing. Roger left early, so the whole bonding with the unborn as it grows, kicks and makes the mother miserable didn't happen. Men tend to love the idea of a kid more until they hold their child in their arms and fall in love then. When I spoke to him, he didn't seem too concerned which I take is part personality and part not comprehending how having a child changes a person."

Xanxus had seen the changes progressing in a number of expectant fathers and the good ones were permanently altered by fatherhood. The mafia was a _family_ oriented criminal organization after all, so he had seen and interacted with a fair number of both first-time fathers and those on their second or third child. Fatherhood suited some people well, made them driven to do better for both their family and the famiglia but others? They didn't change in the least. Not enough to be a good father, or parent in general.

It was disturbing to think about the fact that the parents that were part of the Varia could be far better than those who weren't assassins; CEDEF's former head was an utter failure as a father in terms of emotional support and being available period. He supported his wife and brat financially, but kept them ignorant and unprepared about possible dangers. How they weren't noticed and killed prior to then could only be a damn miracle due to people thinking they didn't exist. While the famiglia's demands on time could supersede a family's needs, the fact was that vacations could be taken, time could be made and spent with one's family easily.

The Ninth usually managed to wrangle a few week-long vacations a year and had spent them with his guardians, his sons and Xanxus; Xanxus remembered that first one he joined where they bought tacky Hawaiian shirts for all that were there. Xanxus knew that Nono still wore his on occasion, but Xanxus had outgrown his and his need for a father long ago. In comparison, Iemitsu had no excuse since the CEDEF wasn't even as busy as the Vongola proper was; even phone calls could easily be arranged and kept secret but Iemitsu didn't even bother with that. There were safe houses that had more of Iemitsu's attention compared to his family.

Dedication to the famiglia was a good quality for any mafioso, but family shouldn't be neglected either. Most managed to balance their attention well and it showed. The Vongola was a large famiglia, filled with many married and unmarried mafia men, staffed with servants and affiliates. He had heard a lot of talk about kids, families and the like from the staff and practically everyone over the years. The Varia was somewhat worse, because it was a lot smaller even if there were far less married men and women in there; marriage generally equaled a transition to Housekeeping or flat-out retirement from the Varia. Even so, a lot of Varia Quality assassins came from families of assassins and they had disturbingly conscientious parents in terms of security, health and development of their child; even if it was only to teach them the family trade properly. It didn't necessarily make them good parents, but it at least made them dedicated and devoted to raising their children.

"But we decided that it's Ace if it's a boy, or Anne if it's a girl." Rouge protested.

"That's more idea than reality. Plenty of expecting parents pick out names they think are perfect only to find them unsuitable when their kid is born."

"I'm keeping the names anyway."

"Wasn't trying to convince you not to; just mentioning facts."

**Falsity**

"Okay. Do you have an idea of how the information got out?"

"That's easy. Someone lied to him, gave him a reason to trust whoever he told and was assured it would stay a secret. He might have been drugged too, but he struck me as the type to avoid any medicine but alcohol."

Honestly, Xanxus knew that type well, since he was that way too. He hated pain-killers like most of the Varia; most of them wouldn't touch anything stronger than a few aspirin or a couple of glasses of alcohol willingly. It was why those that could went with illusions when possible, and those that couldn't retired. If they had to rely on drugs to function, he didn't want them in the field and they didn't want to be out there either. Morphine and other drugs muddled the mind far too much for any assassin to be comfortable using them.

As a wanted Pirate and then as Pirate King, Roger had to develop some similar habits, for all that he might have slipped up later. Roger was sick and dying slowly of his illness which was not a painless death; if he was focused on self-medicating with alcohol then it wasn't unreasonable for him to miss someone slipping him something. It didn't seem likely since Roger had either learned to live with it or ignore it, by the time Xanxus visited him before the execution but it was still a possibility.

"Any idea who? Anything to narrow the search down?"

"Due to death before the interrogation by Cipher Pol was complete, all anybody knows is that the person Roger was speaking to was a young guy, black hair and pretty cheerful."

"Not much of a lead there."

"If you take Roger's personality into account, the young male was probably a sailor, possibly a wannabe pirate who travels. Roger and Garp might be friendly rivals but Roger wouldn't spend time making friends and drinking with the lawful and respectful type."

"And that type is rarely trustworthy." Rouge pointed out.

"If you take over the Resistance and Rescue Logistics, I'll have time to investigate."

"Good. I really want whoever that is found and made to suffer until his heart gives out. Their rumor-mongering, duping Roger and all that led to this mess that South Blue is bleeding for."

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><p>The whole phrasing of 'happy like a father' rung suspicious to me since it was a Cipher Pol agent that picked it up. As most Cipher Pol agents are emotionally incapable, trained to be such, they wouldn't be able to pick up that nuance at all; so now it's my playground. Well, Xanxus' when he finds time for it.<p> 


	45. Chapter 45

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the distinguished Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

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><p><strong>Logistics<strong>

Explaining the current set-up of how Xanxus was running things took a few pieces of paper, a map and a few explanations of the current players on the ground, or sea. Territory. Whatever.

In short, it boiled down to the locals being good enough to hide whoever smuggling them out. However the locals had issues figuring out where and when Marine ships would be so they could avoid them, which as they were smuggling people out would get them all killed under the banner of 'Absolute Justice.' Absolute Justice would possibly kill their families too, for 'harboring a criminal' or if they were really serious 'a traitor.' While the open ocean lacked cover, there were plenty of ways to avoid notice from the marines while sailing.

The easiest way was to be out of sight; keeping distant and away from patrolling ships. That method relied on luck, camouflage and local knowledge. Luck could be replaced by accurate information, but camouflage and local knowledge helped keep ships from being spotted. That most ships were just treated wood helped, even if painting them white reflected light and thus heat away. Local knowledge was knowing the where and when to take advantage of the currents, how the reefs were and knowing the weather which made escapes and hiding so much easier for the resistance. Hidden coves, abandoned bays and just being able to keep out of sight saved lives.

Occasionally there were a few barricades here and there, where marine warships were anchored like floating tanks. That was only towards the Grand Line; not that most people were crazy enough to go into the Calm Belt, but that area was patrolled. The patrols were few and generally only for form since they hadn't caught anyone that Xanxus knew of. Most would rather avoid entering the breeding ground of Sea Kings. The only actual barricade was near South Blue's side of Reverse Mountain. The ships that ran that barricade were based out of two different islands that were smaller versions of Lougetown; last stop shops before the Grand Line, complete with a Marine Base each and interesting citizenry. They were several hours of sailing away from Reverse Mountain's currents, unlike Lougetown that was barely even an hour away.

For the most part, this world geography made barricades pointless when dealing with sectioning off nearly a quarter of the world. The South Pole was a nice place to hide but was impossible to cross to reach West Blue through. The same went for the Red Line; a nice place to hide but impassible. There might be a few caves or mines dug into the Red Line of either side of South Blue but he doubted that they actually pierced through all the rock. The only two places he knew of being able to take ships through the Red Line were in the Grand Line. One was a natural occurrence and led to Fishman Island while the other was a World Government project; likely built through lots of lives and slave labor.

Xanxus due to his 'system' that he refused to elaborate on just had to pass the information onto Rouge which did not require speaking or conversation. A written note, a copy of the orders to move, and if they contradicted each other a short explanation would suffice; countermands of previous orders and paperwork errors happened too. It prevented Xanxus from making extra trips to _all_ the relevant resistance people to pass the information on, which required speaking to them and making sure that they passed it on; having Rouge explain it to them all saved him a headache, energy and time. Rouge was in awe that he actually had three white den den mushi; the white ones were supposed to be rare so Xanxus saw no reason not to loot them.

About the only thing he did was teach her how to speak differently; accents and phrases that weren't exactly native to South Blue. That was a bit of voice coaching but it worked and Rouge alternated between three different 'voices' that weren't her own. She had picked up the idea when she noticed that he was known as various different people to different groups.

To Xanxus' amusement, she had named them Momo, Blanc and Sable; they were all colors, even if you included Rouge's own name. Momo was very girlish, spoke cutely and was happy to help in exchange for praise and recognition of her greatness. Blanc was the angry one, who'd curse and rage. Sable was the smooth and cool operator, who was the brains and refinement of the operation. Xanxus suspected they subconsciously represented the Flame types she'd find easiest to manifest beyond Harmonized Sky Flames, but it didn't really matter. Still a Lightning-Sky was not exactly common in comparison to Sunny-Skies or Stormy-Skies.

It wasn't stressful work in the least -she liked dealing with people for some unfathomable reason- but it kept Rouge busy, feeling in control and finally able to do something. All of which kept depression at bay and was therefore healthy.

**Investigation**

Two weeks after Rouge took over organizing the smuggling of people out of South Blue, Xanxus was in Bridgetower.

Well, the remains of the town, complete with a tall, arching, brick bridge over the small harbor and a fortified lighthouse. Both were blackened with smoke and ash; the lighthouse had part of wall missing while the arch of the bridge had fallen and blocked the harbor.

The builders of both were clearly not up to the standards of the Romans, who had their stonework remain standing even after having stone taken from it over the centuries until the surviving pieces became cherished landmarks and tourist traps.

The boats in the harbor had been set on fire, and had sunk where they were moored. The blackened masts pointing out of the small harbor proved it. Now that he was looking in that direction, Xanxus could see that breaking the bridge happened as the Cipher Pol agents left and had probably been done by cannon fire. The CP6 agents didn't have the mastery of the physical techniques to do such damage on their own, and South Blue was their jurisdiction.

Some of the timbers of larger buildings were still around, standing as silent sentinels to a dead town. A few smaller buildings on the edge of town were practically untouched, while a few skeletons decorated the streets; few of those were intact which was due to animals from what he could tell.

Looking around in the smaller intact buildings, Xanxus saw that they had been turned into nests for former pets turned wild; cats in particular. Cats were good about taking every advantage they could and were pragmatic enough to eat their owner should they be trapped in with a corpse. Even so, that didn't mean they all survived either, as the decaying cat skeleton told him.

All told, fire erased most of the leads and he had looked thoroughly in the buildings that remained; the incompetent Cipher Pol agents at least managed that right.

Well, the living leads anyway.

**Ghosts**

The Varia being an organization of killers, assassins and the like knew about resentment, hauntings, curses and the art of death; if they didn't know it before joining, they learned it quickly after.

Ghosts from work could easily follow you home. Sometimes very blatantly and usually for revenge however they could get it.

This tendency was especially bad for those those that worked close up to others; the shark, Bel, and more. Squalo just purified his sword and cut through any spirit or curse that tried to attack or stick to him. Bel did the same but with less purification and more Storm Flames. Lussuria and Levi had their own methods, which generally amounted to getting someone in Housekeeping to remove any attached spirit or curse, making it solid enough to hit and then 'killing' it or getting someone else to do it for them.

Seeing and speaking to spirits was _easy_ for any Mist who believed that they could; Skies could do the same, if with slightly greater difficulty. In the Mafia, but especially for the Vongola and the Varia, the dead could talk; little wonder why the Vongola were considered a little spooky. Actually if someone had the resolve and Flame Affinity and dedication, the dead could do far more than just talk. Passing on information, possessing people, and manipulating them to their own ends.

Daemon Spade was an example in how the dead could prove _worse_ than the living. Primo's Mist Guardian had worked behind the scenes for_ centuries_ culling out people, famiglias and enacting plots without anyone suspecting him. Daemon Spade claimed it was _for_ the Vongola, but Mists, logic and their actions were never all that clear cut or logical like that; Most Mists could take and pass a logic test but never apply that same logic to their own goals for some reason or another that only made sense to them. Ghosts were even worse since they were attached and obsessed with something well enough to _not_ pass on; clear thought processes rarely happened in living people so it was magnified when they were dead.

Xanxus gathered Mist Flames and imagined the town alive, moving and whole as it had been before the fire; then he released the fire from his soul to build the illusion.

**Restoration**

Faceless people wandered by and their chatter was distorted. Buildings seemed to waver in the sunlight, flash colors, fade to reality before the illusion settled again in a dizzying cycle. He focused on the buildings and they settled into a false reality of translucent solidness. Xanxus deemed that it was good enough since he wasn't a Mist in the first damn place.

The stray dogs seemed joyous to find their owners, but the cats knew better than to be fooled. The living cats were curious, but they weren't joyful either. Neither was Xanxus since he couldn't really understand the ghosts that were still around; bad deaths tended to make souls linger, even if they knew it was coming and were resigned to it. Even so, they should at least be understandable, even if they were aliens.

And that's when Xanxus noticed all the poppy flowers. Red, white and yellow.

**Poppy**

The language of flowers was a curious thing at times; mostly because some things were universal while others could have two very different meanings based on the locality.

Still there are a few things that translate over to various rites, such as rosemary for remembrance, sage for esteem and more. The herbs and such might be unneeded extras for a properly-trained Mist, but atmosphere helped to sharpen focus and it was easier to believe in something else than in yourself when dealing with some things; Skies like himself often needed them, even if they didn't like that fact.

Poppy stood for oblivion and consolation -death- in general; fitting because that's where opium and opiates like morphine came from. Yellow poppies meant wealth and success, while red poppies meant pleasure and extravagance.

If the town was host to a large opium operation then the yellow and red made a lot of sense. Most of the plant wasn't used to create any of the drugs, but if you burned enough of them in mass you could get quite a buzz; both the living and the dead.

This explained the distorted language of the town's ghosts; they were stoned.

He felt like laughing at the absurdity, so he did. It wasn't like anyone could hear him.

Stoner ghosts!

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><p>Will be putting something up in Pirated Perspectives in a few minutes to celebrate getting 100,000+ words last chapter. Somehow it got to be disturbing. Where the hell is my holiday spirit?<p> 


	46. Chapter 46

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the effective Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Bust<strong>

Despite knowing intellectually that he would get no sense from the stoned ghosts, he tried anyway.

With a bit more effort he had made some of the ghosts sober for a time but only the bartender would know for certain the information Xanxus wanted and he was crazy, angry and wanted to stay stoned. He wasn't a very cooperative ghost since like most of the town, he had died a bad death; his might be considered the worst since he was tortured, while the rest were either cut down or died from the fire or the smoke. After determining that he'd never get any information directly from him, Xanxus made sure he passed on.

Then he went on to find and question the regulars. Asking the regular customers at the bar didn't turn up any new leads either; a lot of them deliberately didn't go in when they noticed Roger, so they never saw who he was talking to. At best a few impressions of appearance but nothing he didn't already know. Nothing that he could at least search for like a name.

The entire day, interviews and the holding the town life in defiance of reality in place tore at him, but he asked and obtained answers; generally not to the questions he was originally seeking answers for. The entire endeavor was a bust unless you counted the fact that he now knew personal details about a lot of people who had been getting rich off of processing the poppy flowers. He could always follow up and steal every bit of wealth they earned off of it.

The lead on who Roger told was now cold, and deader than the ghosts.

Oh, and since he was in a conscientious mood; he'd make sure that they all moved on. He stopped denying reality with relief and adjusted his sight so that he could only see the dead and ashes out of his bad eye. That was as far as he was going in adjusting his sight.

Despite it costing more energy and flames, Xanxus preferred to materialize the ghosts and spirits into something solid; he found it far easier to understand and speak to ghosts when they had a working voicebox. He wasn't psychic after all.

**Passing**

There was no easy method to get the ghosts to pass on in mass; stoned or not. Most of the time, removing ghosts and curses were done one at a time. Ghosts or not, they had been people previously.

Some ghosts needed soothing, others needed cheer while a few just needed acknowledgement or last messages passed on. It was a tedious process, but it allowed him to think.

For the most part, Xanxus was rarely bothered by ghosts, curses and the like; Sky Flames put the ghost at peace, which kept the ghost from forming for the most part. Wrath Flames were good at destroying any lingering malice even without specific refinement. Curses were often carried in the blood and as Xanxus usually fought out of splattering range, they wouldn't stick.

So that meant he'd have to take the time to put a lot of souls to rest on various islands where the Marines had slaughtered people. A ghost could easily mutate into a spirit and those were rarely good things. No need for the accumulated rage to be felt, believed in and possess some poor fool. That would be unprofessional for all his kills. He'd have to help a lot the destroyed families too; he'd write down the messages and pass them on, if he was going to make a proper job of it.

So lots of little notebooks, or maybe a folder. Arrange it by where the message was supposed to go, followed by to who; if whoever had already passed on or moved away, there were ways to complete the job anyway with spirit-messages and delegation. If they were smuggled away then that was more complicated and more hunting than he wanted to deal with. That would make delegating the messages a lot harder since those involved in smuggling families purposefully weren't keeping records of who traveled where or when.

So he'd promise to try, but success in doing _all_ of that was out of his hands.

**Scribe**

Xanxus spent the next three days encouraging spirits across South Blue to pass on when he had time between Sansetto's job, his bloody job and his own needs; he had mixed success, as he had never been the encouraging sort.

The ones that wanted _personal_ vengeance were quite happy to have some more trash pass on; some had only stuck around this long to thank him for killing their rapist or their killer and would have passed on naturally soon enough. Acknowledgement just made them pass on sooner.

The ones that wanted vengeance against an organization with an ideal were harder to placate. He came upon inspiration quickly enough; to at least made use of the dead to spy and keep track of living people who he couldn't personally keep track of, which made them feel useful and accomplished in defying the World Government, the marines and and the local government. Most of them would vanish when the purges and the hunt for Roger's child ended. Those that didn't would likely find it difficult to pass on but at least the numbers would be down enough that the likelihood of any of them becoming malicious spirits of any significant power would be low. They might throw things and speak but they wouldn't be able to possess people.

A number of dead ghosts wanted their families and friends safe; Xanxus couldn't promise anything there beyond passing messages on, or checking up on them from time to time if he could spare the time or knew the person, which he generally didn't. Most ghosts just wanted to be listened to and have a message passed on; it was simple enough business to take the notes down, organize them and drop them off, give them to the resistance on the various islands.

The resistance had the time and people to turn into messenger boys and girls; sending on last messages was a solemn duty but Xanxus didn't have time to spare for it when there were so many that needed delivering.

**Request**

It was through his dead contacts that he learned that due to the massive number of marine massacres, they were requesting people higher up the chain of command and authority to replace them. The ghosts had the time and the drive to haunt officers for information that Xanxus would otherwise have to pick up out of heads or overhear.

For the most part, a lot of those in charge of the active part of hunting and culling the women and children along with any who got in their way weren't even Ensigns. Most people here were pretty weak, so sending a Captain out to do that when they had pirates to hunt wasn't the best way to use resources.

Most of the marines doing the dirty work were practically worthless in a fight, but they had authority and they had weapons in addition to lots of numbers; they were also those he had killed most often since the purges began.

Xanxus thought about it, realized that most of this was for show and to make the 'teams responsible for these terrible crimes' worry.

Xanxus wasn't worried in the least; they hadn't even managed to find out that there was only one person doing all the killing and displaying those sick fucks without honor. That was the point of making such a big and flashy show with numerous methods on display; confusion and misdirection were so very helpful to an assassin operating on the fly.

Still, maybe he'd get lucky and one of them would know how to use haki. He wasn't having any luck in figuring that out himself since he didn't have the time to dedicate to it... again, time issues.

**Relate**

Xanxus did eventually tell Rouge that his leads in who had spread the idea of Roger being a father had fallen short. It had taken him most of a week to get back to her as he had been busy. Sansai had visited Sansetto and then after dinner with the Clydes, Xanxus dealt with a possessed person; as much as faith said no one was beyond saving, Xanxus was far from a holy man, taught and trained for such things. He fell back on an old standard: kill it with fire.

Rouge at least gave him a few crepes as a reward for taking time to investigate on her behalf. It clearly was a larger sacrifice than it appeared as she looked so mournfully at the three she gave away. Xanxus' first bite explained why since the filling for that one was a hormone induced insane combination. He swallowed it, investigated the other two and retreated to the fruit bowl. Rouge pounced on the abandoned crepes.

After their chosen food was finish they discussed the situation further. They did know that Roger at least told someone he wasn't supposed to, beyond Xanxus himself and Xanxus had to break through marine security and do some impressive criminal acrobatics to get in the room to overhear it.

Then Rouge brought up something that Xanxus had forgotten about; where was the Oro Jackson? More importantly, did it hold a clue?

Roger's ship was officially 'sank' in the battle that never happened that 'captured' Roger but unofficially it was MIA. Xanxus had never seen Adam Wood, but from what he heard the wood was stupidly sturdy. It didn't mean that the ship couldn't be sunk in the right conditions, but he doubted it. Give something enough time and power and it _would_ move on its own even if it logically shouldn't. The stronger the people and emotions involved, the less time it took. Xanxus at least acknowledged that objects would develop a personality, and occasional sentience; the muramasa blade sealed in the basement proved both.

Setting the ship on fire was possible, as was mooring it somewhere deserted and hiding it. Neither had the flair that Xanxus associated with Roger, or Bel. Bel was a brat that liked to rub his superiority as a genius and a prince in people's faces. Bel would hide something like that in an odd but obvious place, right under their noses... or directly under them. He didn't know much about coating a ship, so it could be fucking impossible for that to happen but it was something to look into.

That was another note to make. His 'to investigate' list was getting longer.


	47. Chapter 47

Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the requested Umei no Mai

Summary: Xanxus could only blame the damn scientists for stranding him in an alternate dimension. However Xanxus could only blame himself for allowing that woman to foist her child onto him. Drabble fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Purify<strong>

After dealing with the ghosts lingering on a few more islands, Xanxus decided that he should probably clean his weapons more than physically too. Spiritual gunk could build up too, and provide an anchor for a dying man's curse.

His own body was more or less kept clean by his own Flames and whatever training time he could squeeze in. The weapons he had here however? They weren't built to be flame conductive so he couldn't just demand them clean with his will and flames. They'd burn and melt; they weren't exactly high-quality.

Oh, and he should see about organizing something of an Obon festival as that time of the year was coming up; that would save him a lot of time and energy while getting rid of a lot of restless spirits and helping the living to find a measure of closure as well. Just mentioning it with the latest face he was using to deal with the newest section of the semi-organized civil resistance; they weren't wild-eyed revolutionaries yet, but it was only a matter of time. If they didn't stop being so reckless, they'd get caught and slaughtered. The other sections probably would be told too in a variety of faces.

Most of the faces he was using with the resistance were from the Guardians of the previous Vongola Bosses. They were faces he knew and doing so also gave him a base personality to work off of, since he knew their histories. It would give Coyote fits, which was the reason Xanxus kept doing it. The overly-correct and proper right hand of Nono could stuff it; preferably with his entire prosthetic arm. Coyote was a hypocrite anyway; Xanxus had read some of the old reports on what the Storm Guardian had got up to before he lost his arm.

So he was going to take a break for the month, more or less. He'd still keep up on Sansetto's work, providing the resistance with information but he'd cut off the obvious killings; Xanxus hadn't lost his touch for creating accidents after all. Let the Marines think that bringing the big tough guys in was working.

He was going to take a spiritual vacation.

**Spirits**

A lot of cultures put a lot of stock in honoring the dead and helping them pass on. There were reasons for this.

That the dead could easily haunt the living was the main one. Remembrance of the deceased and sharing tales of them and bonding with family in general was another. The last was that most of the living were helpless against ghosts, spirits and the like. So it was better to pacify them by honoring them, than allow them to find cause and reason to attack them.

Rain Flames were soothing and allowed the angered spirits to let go of their grudge and pass on, much the same for Sky Flames. Storm Flames destroyed them, plain and simple even if it was arguable if Storm Flames could destroy the base soul. Mist Flames were tricky as they worked off of belief; believe you were powerless and you were.

Generally however, you had to have some Mist Flames in order to feel or see the ghosts or spirits unless said ghost was stupidly powerful like Daemon Spade. They also had to be _active_ which meant that they had been used at least once. A lot of stronger but untrained Mists functioned as mediums, or were if they were smart, found faith and became priests of some sort. While priests might not always have the training, they had faith which could be powerful enough protection. Mediums in comparison could often get possessed for a short-spell of time by vengeful spirits; generally they never fully recovered from the experience.

Ghosts at least looked and behaved like people but spirits more generally were a mixed bag and disturbingly mutable; spirits were also very dangerous as plenty of folk-tales could prove. It was arguable which was worse; being able to see angry spirits intent on killing you or knowing they were there and only able to have a vague feeling of where they were at or if they existed. To fight something you had to know where it was at and most spirits didn't make noise; fighting spirits without some sort of visual was impossible. Most capable of using Flames developed a sensitivity for energy that was only further developed through experience and training, but it didn't mean that those same Flame users could see them or that they were any good against the malevolent dead.

Those with Sun Flames and Lightning Flames were useless, unless you were going to use them as bait; Lightning Flames were very good bait due to their solidification properties, while Sun Flames gave them lots of energy.

The worst flame attribute to have and have a spirit after you was Cloud however. If Sun Flames and Lightning Flames were tasty chocolate, Cloud Flames were practically catnip and spirits could creep on little cat-feet. Cloud Flames had the attribute of 'propagation' which often equaled to 'multiplication.'

So one weakling spirit munching on some Cloud Flames allowed it to become lots of weakling spirits who then ate more Cloud Flames and each-other until the problem became lots of strong spirits. As people needed that energy to live, the unfortunate Cloud would then die and if they were unlucky become a spirit too; that is if the spirits hadn't already devoured his or her soul.

After all, only malicious spirits would devour a person's energy like that so a soul after that wasn't much more than dessert.

**Cloud**

Most Clouds chafed against rules to some degree or another and didn't like attachments except what few attachments that they made on their own, which they defended viciously.

This meant that they were independent, self-sufficient and very much cat-people if they even liked cats; pets with independence and intelligence were best for Clouds. They often saw themselves as distant, were often loners and were quite content to spend a quiet evening alone, reading or enjoying the peace. They had enough of drama outside their sanctuary; Clouds were fiercely private people and quite often traditionalists if only to their own traditions.

As a whole, Clouds weren't very communicative because if they could read other people, why they fuck couldn't those people read them? Cue most Clouds' dislike of people. They were pretty detached from emotional and social norms as they didn't particularly care for them and found them chafing; they substituted their own which is why the better Clouds had mild OCD tendencies. About the only consistent part of norms they adhered to was the concept of debts and grudges; again, only on their terms.

They were however, the best people to send on errands that needed to be done quickly; most Clouds were chronic violators of traffic laws, which included speed limits even in Italy where everyone drove like madmen. They also had a tendency to go for motorbikes, motorcycles and generally open vehicles that could have the top removed or lowered; being in a vehicle full of people often made them claustrophobic, uneasy and violent.

On the downside, quite a bit of it could only be skin-deep; even Clouds could bow to peer-pressure or life's troubles or a cute face. They could be cowardly or fierce but how much was reality and how much was image was debatable; a lot of Clouds sent a lot of mixed signals on purpose to keep people away. Finding proper Clouds of Varia Quality was disturbingly rare; Tyr had promoted Ottabio to the spot just to fill it but Xanxus wanted a proper Officer, even if he had make one. Lussuria was disturbingly helpful in this regard.

His former Cloud Officer Sumu bowed to her famiglia's order to marry despite how much it grated her and how much she had fought it herself; she bowed to reason, practicality and her family's demands only after Xanxus told her that should she ever have need or reason to, she would be welcomed back. As her husband was still around and her child was systematically spoiled by the various still-Varia friends who visited her all the way in Finland, told him that he was probably not going to get his Cloud Officer back in any official capacity. Xanxus had hoped that he'd have her back within a year but it didn't happen, so he was gong to have to find a new one.

The most annoying part of finding a decent Cloud Officer for the Varia is that they had to _survive_ Lussuria's tests; the Sun Officer had forgotten more assassination tricks than most knew existed, so if Luss disapproved potential Cloud Officers ended up dead or crippled and the latter was if he _liked_ them. Crippled Clouds either turned depressed and suicidal or they turned _vicious_ especially if they were any good. Castello might be wheel-chair bound and considered nothing more than breeding-stock for his own famiglia now, especially since he had been the spare before he was Varia but just because Castello's legs didn't work anymore didn't make him incapable of killing people with nothing more than his wits, the muscles he could use and immaculate preparation; he had torn out a man's throat with his teeth and killed his brother's not-Varia Quality would-be assassins with nothing more than the buttons off of his suit.

The reason Luss caused Castello's crippling -not that there was actual evidence because Luss was Varia and so Xanxus officially couldn't reprimand or punish the okama, especially since Lussuria's actions were done on his unofficial orders- was that Castello lacked distance and appreciation. Officially Castello worked in Housekeeping as an archivist; unofficially, Castello handled the small Cloud Division in place of an actual officer since he clearly couldn't be used in the field and was intelligent enough to do the job. Lussuria was masterfully applying an immense psychological pressure on Castello; it was disturbingly well thought out and effective.

Xanxus approved of the mind-fuck that Luss was pushing Castello through; a bit more vicious than those Xanxus had used on his peers as Nono's youngest son but this was the Varia. If Castello broke and tried to kill Luss then his chance of walking again was deader than he was. If Castello adapted, then Luss had established his place in the pecking order and more importantly establish the ability for Castello to have an outside perspective of a very personal situation. The whole point of a Cloud Officer was to have an objective view, no matter the circumstances.

In the meantime, Castello was crippled, and had only an illusion of what his potential position would be to taunt him daily if not hourly. It would be over very quickly if Castello ever talked about his issues with someone but pride prevented that; plus that wasn't the point of Luss' actions. The point was to fuck with the Cloud's mind until Castello realized that being crippled like that had _benefited_ him; that was when Luss would fix his legs and Xanxus would be happy to take him on as an Officer. Castello being raised as he was would hamper him, but Xanxus wanted Officers than could think and pick up on those details that didn't make sense before following-up on those same details; even Levi could do that. Castello was just getting a Cloud-specific mind-fuck until he was Officer material. Castello wasn't going to be _taught_ to think like a Cloud because people _missed_ things like that; he was going to _learn_ to think like a proper Cloud and that was a painfully long progress.

The trick after that was surviving the realization that Castello's entire ordeal of being crippled was just one big fucking test if Castello realized that since Luss had been 'concerned' for him since the beginning; Castello was not an idiot and was Varia-Quality after all. Most of the Varia's Clouds were ambush and close-quarters specialists which required proper planning and a good poker face; something most Clouds were good at anyway. Very few Clouds were anything approaching chatty or anything approaching a lot of normal social conventions were ignored which did often include the ability to communicate clearly.

Predicting when that eventual ambush or attack could be was very difficult depending on how the person used their Cloud Flames and their personal disposition; there were two distinct styles Clouds used their flame. They were known as 'Enhancing' and 'Multiplying' respectively.

Enhancing generally worked on the physical, by multiplying physical strength, muscular density or the amount of force put into a physical blow. Speed was also able to be multiplied with ease, which made the already dangerous Enhancers positively lethal if they were any good at it. Most people, thankfully didn't have the reflexes or the flames to enhance both at once like Castello or the Sawada-brat's Cloud Guardian did. Those that could tended to be close-quarters combat specialists, which wasn't exactly required by the Varia; the Varia was an organization of _assassins_ after all, not just muscle. Castello covered for that by being able to enhance the force behind 'improvised' weapons like his suit buttons; who needed guns when flicking objects made them as deadly as bullets?

Multipliers generally went the 'multiplication' route and made lots of copies of whatever the Cloud wanted to were handy in that aspect, but most avoided poison or drugs; multiplying them could end up wrong in so many ways, especially in an aerolized form. These Clouds tended to be trap-masters and fond of wire fields that sliced people apart or ropes for capturing unlucky prisoners. This was more of his retired Officer's speed and Ottabio's too. Sumu was masterful with aerolized paralytics and had picked up a number of ninja lessons from a variety of sources. Ottabio on the other hand was a pure ambush specialist which made catching and killing him for his treachery easy enough. Ottabio had been convinced that he could never fall into another person's trap, which was the reason he did play right into Xanxus' hand; give a person enough rope to hang themselves with and occasionally they would.

Worse case when fighting a Cloud was if the Cloud could actually multiply himself or herself and then have enough Flame to spare for Enhancing. That could end up as a doomsday scenario with ease.

Thankfully however, Clouds were the rarest Flame Attribute to have after Sky and most people rarely had strong enough Cloud Flames to manifest properly. Most people didn't have the desire or ability to be a Cloud even if they were genetically predisposed for it.

To sum it up shortly on why proper Clouds were rare: people were herd animals. _Herbivores_.

**Mixes**

People with Sky Flames were rare individuals who had an affinity for all the Flame Types: Storm, Rain, Sun, Lightning, Cloud and Mist. They were also able to draw them out in equal measure more or less, which made Sky Flames.

Some Skies were so balanced they could never be able to pull out individual elements and use them with any sort of ease. The young Seer Yuni, the Watcher Byakuran and the 'Sainted' Sawada-brat would never be able to pull out individual elements without intense and dedicated training to do so.

If they had done so, then the first individual Flame they'd be able to use with anything approaching ease would be Sun, Rain and Mist respectively. Xanxus was pretty sure that when Yuni was able to do that, she'd be able to activate her visions on command, Byakuran would shed more of his crazy and the Sawada-brat would get a bit more observant which would compliment the damned hyper intuition nicely; it really would benefit the Sawada-brat a lot more because then he'd be able to draw on those Mist Flames without the damn seal interfering, and he'd get more observant so he'd settle down, be less startled by things he should know to expect and start looking more acceptable as a Boss, especially if he continued that trend and learned to manifest the rest of the flames separately.

Honestly, he wasn't sure why Reborn hadn't started training his student to do that yet. At least he had put that information in the video home including the order that the Sawada-brat should learn to use the individual elements. If Reborn needed further convincing to do so, Squalo could give explanations to the hitman. Who knows? Maybe the brat could figure out how to use Wrath Flames, but Xanxus doubted it.

Most people just wrote off the Wrath Flames as part of Xanxus' dubious charm. Generally because they didn't know the difference between how a person used Storm Flames and how a person used Sky Flames; it wasn't like people wrote about that, or how to use Flames after getting the resolve and will to do it. Most people didn't even think in those sorts of directions as most Flame users learned to use their Flames instinctively with enough training. That only happened when people trained to manifest another element and even then they shrugged the differences off.

Wrath Flames were not just a simple mix of Sky and Storm Flames; it looked like it, acted like it but they were not.

Sky Flames were all the elements in balance. Storm Flames had the property of 'disintegration.' Clearly, they shouldn't be able to mix and create Wrath Flames as the extra Storm Flames would disrupt the balance of flames; trying just that had killed Skies in the past, including one of Secondo's own sons and a number more Skies over the years. As there were only two people since the Vongola was created who could use Wrath Flames despite various Skies trying to find out how meant there was a 'secret' to it. Wrath Flames were seen as more powerful than Sky Flames as a whole because a large number of techniques involving Sky Flames were kept secret to the Vongola's heir and boss; well that and Secondo's occasional massacres of enemy troops by himself being mentioned in all the mafia history books.

Xanxus just found them all idiots. Wrath Flames might act and look like a mix of Storm and Sky Flames but the 'secret element' to make Wrath Flames work was Cloud; propagating and enhancing the harmony of the Sky Flames to contain, control and direct the extra Storm Flames. It was something that Xanxus found as easy to do as breathing. It was a fucking pity that using Cloud Flames like that only worked on Sky Flames, and his own Wrath Flames from his own experiments. He needed to experiment more with them, but playing with Dying Will Flames could wait until later. Using Cloud Flames like that allowed him to multiply his own Flames when he wanted -generally when angry- and also allowed him to mold and shape the Wrath Flames with ease into various shapes: spheres, pyramids and more. Letting Flames just burn recklessly was a sign of poor control after all.

Dying Will Flames were known as Flames because that's how the appeared; as colorful fire. They could also burn things, should the resolve be there, so that's how they gained their name. Shaping flames into actual shapes was something most people found hard. Xanxus found it pretty easy. It wasn't like they were _actual_ fire; they just looked like it. It was a person's inner energy amplified by the rings into a colorful waves of energy in the visible spectrum; the fact that Dying Will Flames could burn things was more due to uncontrolled energy turning itself into extra heat and light.

Xanxus was good at controlling them, but he wasn't Lussuria who had the best fucking control over his Sun Flames that Xanxus had ever seen anyone have over their flames period; the Sun Officer had pinpoint control over his Sun Flames so he could activate things on a cellular level. When he was working on that small of a level, people never saw a hint of Sun Flames; uncontrolled flames made manifest were the ones that produced the lightshow. It made Lussuria a superior healer as he could pinpoint the damage to fix when he wanted to.

People who aggravated Lussuria often ended up with piss-poor Sun Flame healing, which resulted in a 'super-charge' of overall cellular activity resulting in excessive growth of hair and nails, plus a slight shortening of a person's overall lifespan as cells can only divide so many times. People who angered Luss, the Sun Officer beat up. Those that Lussuria wanted vengeance on? Lussuria would activate the viruses that the immune system had rendered dormant in bodily cells. Getting the flu was bad enough but Luss had a fondness for herpes, chicken pox and others that could cause disfiguration and lots of irritation. Lussuria really was_ that_ good.

Xanxus knew all this mostly because unlike a lot of people Xanxus had the resolve to play with his flames and the ability to use all of them as a child. Most people needed a ring to use Flames, but Xanxus had never needed one. His resolve to play with his flames came from being able to manifest his flames as a child and the fact that his child-like wonder with them had never ceased. So that was what he was going to do over his spiritual break after purifying his weapons.

It had been a while since he had last done that.

**Gunk**

Just to be thorough and because he could, Xanxus collected all the weapons he had used to kill the many marines and several Cipher Pol agents.

Physically they were all clean, but spiritually? Covered in gunk, according to the auras and psychic crud he could see. First he had to consecrate the ground; as he was only working in a small meadow, it took less than an hour. He was quite happy to be on a deserted island to do it on too; he was probably going to be burning some things he didn't want to clean. Having a 'holy island' set up would also be handy for next time he needed to do this. He still had over six months before the genocide was over.

Then he went through the process of removing all the spiritual gunk. Thankfully it took less than an hour to clean all the knives, bludgeons and the like spiritually at a deserted island; avoiding attention was his intention here. Then because while the weapons were clean, even those he had used to pin people to walls like butterflies, he had to look at some of the things he had used to stage each and every bloody scene.

Wire was a bitch to clean spiritually, but as he couldn't easily obtain more of it, Xanxus made sure that it was good to go. Then because he didn't want to clean the rope, he burned the rope in a bonfire lit with Sky Flames.

Then he 'jumped' to Sansetto's, stored all the weapons and threw himself into work there. A spiritual vacation didn't mean that his work elsewhere was on hold.

* * *

><p>To summarize the new information: Clouds are yummy for malicious spirits to munch on. Mist Flames and belief are needed to seespeak with or understand the dead. The dead can still target those who don't see them. Luss is scary and is the tester for potential Cloud Officers. Xanxus is a Cloudy-Sky. Lussuria is nightmare fuel for the Centers for Disease Control, World Health Organization and more.

By the way, if Xanxus being a Cloudy-Sky surprises you then you need to reread the last drabble and author notes in Chapter 31 and compare Xanxus's behavior in-story. Especially that of Storms and Clouds.

Castello is an OC but he's based off of Runover, a wheelchair bound mob boss from the manga Black Joke.


End file.
